Vertigo
by Mr G and Me
Summary: Being born into wealth is a privilege. It's also a curse. AH. Set in Australia. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a story that I wanted to write after I wrote a one shot in the story exchange. It had to be less than 10k so it became another story, but it still stayed with me. I didn't think I'd write anything for awhile after The Fallen, but it started talking to me, so here we are.  
It's set in Australia, because I'm kind of all researched out with The Fallen and I wanted to write what's familiar to me. I'll try and explain any terms that might be confusing.  
It's also going to swap back from Edward and Bella's POVs. They're characters I haven't written about before, so I'm kinda excited about it. I'll upload two chapters at first, and I hope to update no later than once a week. So long as RL doesn't get in the way. While this story begins in high school, it's not a high school story. Been there, done that; no wish to repeat it.  
Anywho, I hope you give it a go.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Edward**

I still think of her most days. Don't ask me why; I really couldn't tell you. In my mind, I think of her as the one who got away—which is complete bullshit. She was never mine to lose.

She was just that girl in high school I had a major hard on for but never had the guts to do anything about. Until it was too late, anyway. Maybe it's regret that's really haunting me. Or the lack of "closure" as Jake insists it is, but closure from what? There's no unwritten rules about unrequited teenage crushes to explain why I've pined away for a virtual ghost for most of my life.

My job doesn't exactly help, because she's everywhere. Every grade has one; the introvert who hangs out in the library during every lunch break. The girl who has zero interest in fitting in or conforming to the standards of the "popular" kids.

There's one in year 11, and Jesus, does she remind me of Bella. Straight A's, almost perfect attendance, but a complete loner—by choice. She's not in any of my classes; kids like her don't tend to take P.E after the mandatory four years is over and they're given the choice of their electives.

I see her in the halls from time to time, a book stuck in front of her face, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose; completely oblivious to the world around her. It's not that she has any contempt for the other kids; it's simply that they don't interest her.

That's how it was with Bella. She was never rude, she never stared through me, or avoided me. Nothing like that. She knew who I was—I was School Captain, everyone knew who I was—it was just my entire existence was irrelevant to her.

That's what drove me completely mad, and made me want her more.

At that age I was struggling with my own identity and sense of worth. Emmett and I had just moved in with our grandfather, and away from our mother's influence, and I was rebelling. I was a 'little smart arse'—as Pop would say—and was always being sent to see the Headmaster. That's where I was when I first saw her, as I was waiting to get the cane. Corporal punishment never really fazed out of private schools; especially, not one as exclusive as Sydney Grammar—the school that had produced the most amount of Prime Ministers and high court judges. Which made sense considering the front building resembled more of a court house than it did a school, but give the Housemasters shit and you paid, heavily. For thirty-five grand a year, kids were taught strict discipline as a matter of principle.

By my third year I had become pretty desensitised to it, and I preferred physical punishment to the psychological mind fucking I was used to at the hands of my mother. Being able to feel _anything_ was almost therapy for me. The Headmaster knew that, he knew our family dynamics, and he'd been in the elite education system of Sydney long enough to know how fucked up most of the families were.

Emmett and I were no exception. Either was Jake—or Bella, for that matter. We all suffered from _Silver Spoon Syndrome_ in one way or another. As ironic as it is, Bella in a way was more fortunate than the rest of us. She didn't find out, until after her entire life went to complete shit, just how dysfunctional her own family was. It's probably why she always appeared to have her shit together, but I guess I'll never really know.

Whoever said money is the source of happiness obviously never had any. Sure, I never starved, but I was fucking miserable. So miserable I was a suicidal nine year old who jumped off the roof of my mother's house in an attempt to end it all. I only fell around twenty feet and broke my arm. It was our nanny who took me to Emergency to have it plastered; my mother was never even informed. The staff weren't stupid enough to interrupt her during one of her spa/hair/nail/Botox appointments. The wrath that bitch would have brought down on the entire house wasn't worth any concern over me; the _scapegoat_ child.

Yeah, Headmaster knew the hell I was raised in; that's why he often chose the cane over the paddle, and went easy on me.

While Sydney Grammar is technically co-ed, the classes are segregated, and the girls have a separate entrance. Our entrance was opposite Hyde Park in the CBD of Sydney, on College Street; the girls a block over in the Darlinghurst end of the city. The sexes are kept apart for the most part, while the only shared buildings are the library, gym, lunchroom, and of course, the main office—where the Headmaster's office was.

It was June, halfway through the school year. I was in year 9. I was sent to the office for being the unfortunate kid who was caught with the smutty note about Jessica Stanley that'd been circulating around the classroom. Though, if it wasn't for that reason it would have been something else. Mr Banner was a miserable old bastard who couldn't stand me; he spent every class, his eyes on me like a hawk, waiting for the smallest excuse to throw me out. He knew the note was being passed around; he was just waiting for it to fall into my hands.

It's not as if I was complaining; getting the cane was a small price to pay to get out of class. I wasn't much of a scholar. For me it was all about sports. The school might spew out a lot of PMs, but I wouldn't be one of them.

Mrs Cope, the office administrator—who made every kid in the school aware of the fact that she hated her job—only rolled her eyes blatantly at me when I walked in, before jerking her head to the row of chairs in front of the Headmaster's office.

"The Cullen boy is here to see you again," she spoke dryly into the intercom before she resumed her typing; sighing impatiently to herself as if the thirty seconds of her time I'd taken up had set her back for the entire day.

I only smirked to myself, reaching into my blazer and pulling out a stick of gum.

That's when she walked in, sandwiched between her parents. I couldn't see much of her, apart from the long, dark hair that fell halfway down her back, and the navy and yellow blazer of our school.

She was transferring from her first year at Pymble Ladies College, I heard her mother explain to Mrs Cope, before she stated her name; Isabella Swan.

That perked my ears up immediately. The name "Swan" was familiar. I turned my attention to her old man; he stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder looking pissed off and put out, and really bloody intimidating. He was easily in his fifties, dressed in a tailored suit, and from his overall demeanour I guessed he was the famous Barrister, 'Senior Counsel Charles Swan'.

Yeah, no scholarships for this kid. She came from _money._

I listened to the old cow, Mrs Cope, carry on about how good her grades were, while her mother, who looked younger and more expensively attired than my own, filled in the required registration forms. This is when her father, huffing loudly to himself, pulled his Blackberry from his suit jacket and sat down on the set of chairs directly opposite me.

He ignored me, of course, but he'd given me a direct line of sight to his daughter. She wore glasses, but she was pretty, really bloody pretty; though, that didn't surprise me considering her parents. And I mean, if you go for that nerdy type. Which I didn't. I was fifteen, and at that age I didn't really have a _type_. I hated my mother, I knew that much, and considering she was the only real female influence I had I guess she'd subconsciously affected my perception of the opposite sex.

For the most part I found girls to be annoying and weak-minded. Emmett thought I was gay. I wasn't gay; I just didn't like girls. At least, I didn't like the ones I was surrounded by daily. The rich bitches and spoiled princesses who'd rip their undies off in a heartbeat for a dare. The ones who lost their virginity in the locker rooms of the gym and then openly bragged about it as if it was some sort of accomplishment. The same girls who spent every minute terrorising the boarders for their blue-collared backgrounds.

If they only knew half my genes came from the same background, I wonder if they would have paid me as much attention.

All I saw in the girls at my school was my mother in the making; shallow, pretentious, narcissistic, evil fucking bitches who would make my life a living hell. I didn't want a bar of that crap. I'd rather join the clergy.

But this girl... I watched her, closely. She was staring down at her feet, clutching a small object in both her hands. I quickly realised it was an inhaler; something she brought to her lips a moment later and breathed in.

She had asthma, her mother explained to Mrs Cope. Chronic asthma, and they weren't comfortable with her boarding away from home at her old school.

She sighed softly to herself, as if she was irritated by being spoken about right in front of her, when her eyes quickly darted to me. She glanced at me for a second or two, practically expressionless, before she went back to staring at the floor.

But I wanted another look at that face, because...shit...

Blowing into the wad of gum in my mouth, I cracked it loudly, catching not only her attention, but Mrs Cope's. And her old man's.

He eyed me for a moment, much like Mr Banner, before he went back to staring at his phone, and just as the old crone, school secretary, barked out into the room.

"DISPOSE OF THAT GUM THIS INSTANT, YOU INSOLENT BOY!"

"Yes, Miss." I smirked again, pulling myself arrogantly from the chair to chuck it in the rubbish bin in the corner of the room, when my eyes again caught hers. Her expression was slightly curious this time, but...almost bored before she severed my gaze and completely turned her back on me.

A minute later she left to be shown to class, before the Headmaster's door swung open and he grabbed me by the collar, yanking me roughly inside the room.

I didn't see her again that day. In fact, I didn't see her for the rest of the week. Not in the lunchroom, or the gym, or in the courtyard. I was forced to put the feelers out and ask Emmett. Emmett knew every kid in the school, the girls especially. He was the boy they lost their virginity to on a dare. The biggest man-whore arsehole there was.

My brother; my _twin_ brother.

While we grew up in the same house, Emmett's childhood was vastly different from mine. He was my mother's _golden child_. The child who could do no wrong. The child she was always throwing in my face and pitting against me. I always had to bow to him, and if I ever did better than him at anything, at school for example, it'd send her into a rage and she'd beat the crap out of me. Then she'd stand back while he did the same, on her instruction.

Emmett's always been a giant. While I stand just taller than our grandfather at 6'2", Emmett is still four inches taller. He gets his height from our father apparently; though, neither of us ever met him. He died before we were born. When I was five I found a picture of him in the hall closet in my mother's house. Emmett's his clone, whereas I look nothing like him. While we're twins, we're not identical. I look like my grandfather, Carlisle. _Pop_ , as we call him.

Which is why my mother hates me with a passion.

Until Emmett and I moved in with Pop, we hated each other. I detested the bastard. I hated him so much, I used to lie awake at night thinking up inventive ways to kill him in his sleep.

When we were twelve, Pop put us into therapy. It took me awhile to realise Emmett was being just as emotionally manipulated by our mother for her own purpose, as I was. That's when we eventually started to get along, and I could finally see him as my brother.

"Never heard of no Isabella Swan," Emmett replied to my question during lunch break, distracted as he was as we played basketball with Jake and a couple of other guys from our year.

"She's new," I probed further, stealing the ball from him and throwing it toward the hoop. It bounced off the backboard and dropped smoothly through the net. "Like _last week_ new," I added with satisfaction when he turned to scowl at me.

"I dunno. Never heard of her," he reiterated, shoving me, before wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

I didn't take it as a good sign. If Emmett had never heard of a girl, it usually meant she didn't exist. I was starting to doubt whether I'd heard correctly, and whether she had even transferred to our school, at all.

"So..." He shoulder barged me that afternoon as we waited for Pop's driver to pick us up, before stepping in line beside me. "I found out who that girl is."

"Yeah?" I turned to him, a little too eagerly.

"Forget it, bro. Number one, she's a total nerd, and two, you know who her old man is?"

"Yeah, of course I know," I said impatiently.

"Plus, mate, she's in year 7—practicing to be a sugar daddy already, are you?" He snickered.

"It's only two years—shut the hell up!" I retorted, defensively. Emmett had a real talent of taking the piss out of me. "Anyway, where does she hang?"

"In the library—doing her homework." He rolled his eyes, making a loud gagging sound.

The library...

I was going to become intimately acquainted with the library. Isabella and I, though? Not even close.

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 ***Sydney Grammar School is an all-boys high school. I may have embellished about it being co-ed for the purposes of this story.**

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 **A/N: Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The first few chapters will be from Edward, and then it'll move to Bella.**  
 **I'll update next weekend with chapter 3, and if you leave a review, I'll give you a spoiler. :)**  
 **Year 7 is the same as 7th grade, etc. We just say it differently. In Australia high school is from year 7 to 12. Hope that helps.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 2**

 **Edward.**

I found her the next day, and every day after, just as Emmett had said; sitting in the library with either her nose stuck in a text book or looking like she was buried deep in school work.

Every day for the rest of my school life I stopped at the library before the second half lunch bell rang. I rarely went in. It was enough to reassure myself that she was there, because there was no way I could do anything more. I could barely make eye contact with her, and talking to her was out of the question.

I kept close tabs on her, though. I was a good stalker back then, and I was pretty certain she never knew. I learned a lot about her in that first year. The first was that she didn't make a lot of friends—if any. I sometimes saw her with Angela Weber, a girl from her year, but for the most part she seemed to be comfortable being alone.

Me, on the other hand, being Emmett's brother I was popular by default, and by the fact that I captained every sports team in my year, from swimming to cricket and Aussie Rules. Then there was my best mate, Jake. I met him on the first day of term in Year 7. We were put in the same Roll Call, while he, Emmett, and I were all in the same house team.

Jake's almost as tall as Emmett and as a stress reliever—for being the only son of advertising giant William Black—he worked out. He was built like no other kid in the school, or no teacher for that matter, and between the three of us, we rarely lost—at anything. Every year, back to back, from Year 7 to 12 we brought the first place regional trophy for Basketball, Rugby, AFL and Cricket back to the school.

The last I heard our record has still yet to be surpassed.

I occasionally saw Isabella in her sports uniform, but it was obvious even from afar that she was uncomfortable. I heard, mostly through Emmett, that she usually wasn't allowed to participate fully in PE and had more than once been sent to sickbay with an asthma attack. Unlike me, she was no good at sport—which wasn't really her fault—but whereas I was a "C" average student, she was easily at the top of her grade.

At the end of the school year, I was awarded four "Best and Fairest" sportsmanship trophies.

Pop was there; he came to all our school presentations, and he gave me a standing ovation from the audience with each trophy I was called up to collect. The sport awards were announced first, and I'll admit, I was pretty happy with myself, and more so knowing Isabella was there and she'd see what I'd achieved. Plus, I beat Emmett. He only won two; one for basketball and the other for rugby. We were pretty competitive with each other, and to beat him was huge for me. Especially knowing I wouldn't get the shit beat out of me from my sadistic mother afterwards.

Ever since Pop had taken over custody of us, he had forbidden her from coming anywhere near me and Emmett, so it was a triumph I could enjoy without the fear of repercussions.

Emmett was pissed while I sat beside him grinning broadly to myself, but my satisfaction was short-lived. The presentation moved onto academics, starting with Year 7.

I watched stunned as Isabella collected award after award until I started feeling like shit. She won five; placing first in English, Science, History, Geography and Economics. I realised, compared to this girl, I was a dumb-arse. Even Emmett managed to win third place in Geometry, and overall his grades were worse than mine.

I noticed her parents in the audience straight away, and two younger brothers—something else I realised about her. Her father looked just as pissed off as he did the first time I saw him, and every two minutes he kept checking his watch. Though I did witness him kiss Isabella's cheek and almost crack a smile when she returned to her seat with all her awards.

At the end of the night Pop was congratulated repeatedly by both parents and teachers over how _athletically gifted_ Emmett and I both were, but I was embarrassed. My trophies felt worthless. I wanted to impress Isabella, but I'd failed. She obviously didn't give a crap about sports like I did, and I knew if I was going to get her to notice me I had to step up.

I started Year 10 with a goal to pull up my grades, and to get her to notice me. She knew who I was, I was sure of it. I was awarded as Junior Prefect at the start of the year, and that was done during assembly in the auditorium, so there was no way she wouldn't. Occasionally we'd cross paths in the hall, but since the girls classes were at the opposite end of the school that wasn't often. The few times we did she walked straight past me, her head in the clouds, or a book; everywhere but on me.

By the end of the year both Emmett and Jake were getting pretty serious reputations. Jake changed girlfriends more frequently than he pumped iron, and Emmett fucked anything in a skirt. I was still a virgin, and while girls were really starting to bother me, the one girl I was interested in appeared completely oblivious to me.

The comparisons between me and Emmett were stark. While my aversion to girls really hadn't changed, Emmett was the polar opposite. Rumours were beginning to circulate about me. Of course, Emmett squashed them immediately, only worried about how having a "poof" for a brother would reflect on him. While for the first time in my life, I took an interest in the girls' gossip. I didn't want to be labelled a whore by association with my walking STD-carrying brother, but I sure as hell didn't want Isabella thinking I wasn't even batting for her team.

Then Jake convinced me that if I started going out with girls, it'd make her notice me, as well as shut the rumours up. I wasn't really convinced, but I gave it a shot and asked out Bree Tanner. She'd been shoving love letters in my locker for months, and getting her friends to pester me every lunch break. She was moderately pretty, I guess, but she paled in comparison to Isabella. That's the only thing I could think every time I looked at her.

I asked her to the flicks and the girl almost chucked a fit before she threw her arms around me. I immediately tensed and had to fight the urge to shove her off me. After that, she notified the entire school that we were going out and I was her boyfriend. It pissed me off because almost immediately all I wanted to do was get away from her.

We went out the following Friday night, and half way through the movie she asked me to feel her up. I almost bloody choked on my choc-top.

"Erm...maybe later," I mumbled out an awkward reply, attempting to increase the distance between us—more than the armrests allowed—when she reached over and grabbed my dick.

I threw my drink over her. It was more of a reflex than it was deliberate, and while she bitched and carried on, I used it as an excuse to call it a night.

I paid for a taxi to take her home—shoving her forcefully into the car even as she clung to me and tried to kiss me—before I met up with Jake and took the ferry home with him.

The bastard laughed his arse off the entire time, while after ignoring seven calls from her, I threw my phone into the harbour.

After successfully avoiding Bree for the following week, she eventually cornered me at the front entrance bus stop. I broke up with her, and in reply she slapped me.

"You're a dead root, Edward!" she yelled out to half the school before storming off across Hyde Park.

"Fuck sake..." I murmured, dropping my head and rubbing the back of my neck, when my eyes suddenly locked with Isabella's.

She was waiting for the bus several metres away, holding a book close to her face, her head turned toward me.

She held my gaze for no more than a second, when appearing suddenly startled she quickly glanced away, her cheeks flushing. I hadn't seen her catch the bus before; usually her mother picked her up. In a white Range Rover.

I only stared after her for a moment, my mouth open, frigging paralysed to the spot, before Emmett suddenly slapped my back, breaking me from it.

"Maaaaate," he drawled, sounding impressed, before rising his palm to high-five me.

"Seriously, nothing even happened—other than the fact that she's a raging fucking slut," I muttered in response, raising my hand to him begrudgingly.

"Still, coulda been worse," Emmett insisted before hooking his elbow around my neck and pulling me to him. "Though, she's the one who's a dead root. She just fucking lies there like a star fish," he confided in me before chuckling to himself.

"All right, Christ!" I insisted, shoving myself away from him, repulsed, and using the excuse of straightening out my tie and blazer, I snuck a peek at Isabella.

She stood, eyes glued to her book, her expression now smoothed out, and with zero indication that she was still aware of my presence.

I sighed.

 **. . .**

According to Bree Tanner and the rest of the tenth grade girls, that's how I lost my virginity; in the cinema watching _Superman Returns_.

It was bloody painful, and Emmett and Jake didn't miss an opportunity to take the piss out of me every chance they got. But at least all speculation in regards to my sexuality had reached conclusion. I was straight, but a dead root. As if that was some kind of consolation.

I finished out Year 10, winning the 'Don Bradman medal for Achievement in Sport'. I also took second place in Biology and third in Trigonometry. Isabella cleaned up, topping her grade again in everything but Maths. It officially made me a dumb-arse, and the more I failed in gaining her attention, the more of a dumb-arse I felt.

I went out with a couple of girls, but it was nothing serious, or as painful as my week long stint with Bree. Then when I turned seventeen I lost my virginity. For real, this time. I was going out with Lauren Mallory; no bloody idea why. Jake set us up. We were together for just over a month, when I somehow found myself in her parents' pool house alone with her. She shoved her tongue down my throat, and palmed my dick, and the next thing I knew she was almost choking me as she attempted to remove my school tie.

It was a good thing she knew what she was doing, because I sure as hell didn't. It was over in a couple of minutes, and after, with her scent all over me and feeling like I wanted to puke, I picked myself up, got dressed, and left.

I guess I didn't leave much of an impression, because for the next couple of months Lauren gave me the cold shoulder. It's not that I was complaining. I couldn't even look her in the eye without wanting to start groaning out loud to myself. We never officially broke up, but a month later Lauren's parents up and yanked her out of school. Rumour had it she was sent to an all-girls Catholic boarding school in the upper north shore.

At the same time, Pop got a phone call from her old man demanding I stay away from his daughter. Then word got out that I'd knocked her up and her parents had "taken care of it".

I never found out if any of it was true, but I couldn't fucking breathe for a week. Then the Headmaster called me into his office where he busted my arse with the paddle—ten fucking times—for bringing disrepute to the good name of Sydney Grammar School.

After that I was sworn off girls for good.

Well, except one girl. The brown-eyed beauty who I was sure I'd never find the balls to approach, but time was running out.

I finished Year 11 and started my HSC with a solid "B" average. My days of being hauled into the Headmaster's office were over, and I was made school captain. Apparently "knocking up" Lauren Mallory elevated me higher than both Emmett and Jake in the popularity department, and suddenly girls were all over me. I had them texting me at all hours of the day and night, I got dozens of Facebook messages daily, and a group of them from Year 11 and 12 formed the "Edward Cullen Slut Pack" where apparently they had my name spelled out across their tits. They made up complete bullshit about how many of them I'd fucked, and how big my dick was; and how good I apparently was at going down on them. And they followed me _everywhere_. They came to every single cricket and basketball game I played, and every swim meet, acting as my personal bloody cheer squad.

I ended up with a bigger stud reputation than Emmett, despite the fact that I'd had sex exactly once, and after that train wreck, I wasn't even remotely interested in going for a second round. I got so much daily shit over it that I was forced to take drastic action. I started hiding out in the library where the Slut Pack's bullshit wouldn't be even remotely tolerated, and I started planning.

Isabella still spent every lunchbreak in the library, only she appeared to be now volunteering. Every day I watched her, from the furthest cubicle in the building, as she stamped and shelved books, while hauling around a trolley stacked high with them between the aisles.

I studied her movements for months, knowing I was nearing graduation and if I didn't make a move I'd always regret it.

Every day, without fail, after the second bell for lunch break signalled, she went into the storage room and returned about ten minutes later with the returned books that needed to be shelved. After four months, and stalling on it for three, I had the timing of it down to the second. I was going to stage an _accidental_ run in.

Every day I set my alarm to execute it, and every day I choked. Every. Single. Day.

It was September when I made the decision to just fucking do it, and it was Jake who helped push me into it.

Literally.

* * *

 ***poof (rhymes with hoof) - Gay.**

 ***HSC – Higher School Certificate.**

 ***Don Bradman – Famous Australian cricketer.**

 ***AFL – Australian Football League, or Aussie Rules. Not to be confused with Rugby.**

 ***Root – Sex.**

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 **A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Geez, hey, nothing like writing an 'all human' to get the followers rolling in. Thanks to everyone who's signed on for the ride. I hope I don't disappoint.  
Anywho I've finished another chapter, so I thought I'd post another one. **

* * *

**Vertigo**

 **Chapter 3**

"Mate, you still in the library?" Jake exclaimed from behind me while scaring the crap out of me.

"Christ sake—keep your voice down!" I replied, attempting to keep mine hushed. The librarian was the bloody Gestapo who'd throw your arse out if you sneezed too loudly, after all, but I didn't want Isabella to know I was anywhere nearby.

I glanced around him in the direction she sat, quietly eating her lunch, to double check that she hadn't heard. Jake followed my gaze and snorted loudly.

"You still pining after that chick?—hey, she's pretty hot!"

"No shit, now will you shut the fuck up? Do you want to get us thrown out?"

He smirked. "Well, what are you waiting for? Just go over and talk to her."

"I'm biding my time..." I mumbled jerking my shoulder, wishing he'd piss off already.

"For what?" he asked, leaning up against the edge of the desk and folding his arms. "For her to choke on her sandwich?"

"Would you get out of the fucking way?" I grabbed his blazer and yanked him to the side

"Christ, you're a bitch." He scoffed, but moved to the opposite side of me, regardless.

I ignored him, keeping my eyes fixed to Isabella until she finally got up and disappeared into the storage closet.

Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled myself from the cubicle desk and made my way to the front of the library; with Jake beside me. I paused several metres from the entrance of the storeroom, between two rows of shelves, and waited.

Jake sighed before nudging me forward. "Now's your chance. Go in there with her and shut the door."

"Yeah, as if that'd get me anywhere," I said dryly, elbowing him. "Would you seriously just piss off?"

"No way. I want to see this for myself."

I huffed before pulling up the sleeve of my blazer to glance at my watch. For the next couple of minutes, I alternated between keeping my eye on the time and the movement of the storage door. The hinges were getting rusty and every time it moved it let out a high pitched creaking sound.

"What the shit are you doing?" Jake eventually demanded confused, and raising his bloody voice again.

"Fuck's sake—shut the hell up!" I snapped in a hard whisper, losing my patience with him. If he got me thrown out I'd kill him.

He rolled his eyes before grabbing my shoulders and attempting to move me forward. "Stop being such a pussy, will you."

"Jake—what the hell! Let the fuck go!" I attempted to fight him off me, flooding with panic and losing the fight to keep my voice quiet.

"Yeah, no. If I don't do something you never will. We both know it!"

I turned to him, failing to shove him off me, when the screeching sound of the door opening behind me immediately snapped my attention back to Isabella. The front of the trolley was halfway through the entrance and she was about to follow it.

"I'm not kidding, Jake. Fuck off _now_!" I warned him, but I was becoming desperate, and he knew it.

He only scoffed, dragging me closer kicking and struggling against him. Then, just as Isabella appeared from behind the door, no more than five feet from where we stood, he shoved me toward her.

He shoved me, too bloody hard, sending me sprawling into her. I crashed into the trolley of books, knocking it over and taking her with it as her glasses flew from her face.

"JACOB BLACK, REPORT TO THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE THIS INSTANT!" I heard the librarian's pissed off voice from somewhere behind me, Just as I managed to grab hold of Isabella.

My actions were from pure instinct, but it wasn't enough to keep either of us on our feet. I landed awkwardly on my shoulder with her falling with me; my hands gripping around her upper arms as hers clamped to my blazer.

For a single moment she only stared at me in shock, without blinking, her mouth open, when she suddenly yanked herself from my arms.

"I-I— _shit_ —I'm so sorry. Let me help you!" I blurted out, stammering, and feeling my ears burn in mortification, before clumsily pulling myself to my knees to help her collect the books that were now scattered all over the floor.

Her face was blazing, only I couldn't tell if she was angry or embarrassed. Both I was guessing, and she didn't look up to meet my gaze once.

For the next minute I helped her stack the books back on the trolley, in complete silence. It was awkward as shit, and when we were done she glanced up at me, only she wasn't quite looking into my eyes.

"Are you...okay?" I asked after a moment when she only continued to stand before me looking more and more uncomfortable.

"Do...you know where my glasses went...?"

"Oh, shit—sure. Hang on, let me find them!" I quickly scanned the floor, discovering them almost instantly half poking out from under the librarian's front counter.

Bending down, I scooped them up and placed them into her out stretched hands.

"I'm really sorry," I apologised again as she slid the glasses over her nose. This was the closest I'd ever been to her, and I didn't realise how short she was. Or how nice she smelled.

Raising her head, she looked at me directly this time, when something, presumably me, made her immediately start. She visibly reacted to the sight of me standing before her. I'd never had that happen before, and I wasn't exactly unfamiliar with how girls reacted to me.

They usually threw themselves in my arms, not shrink away from me, and suddenly I wasn't sure what was worse. I fucking _hated_ girls touching me, but this reaction...

"It's okay," she mumbled, immediately severing eye contact to fix her gaze to my chest. At my School Captain's badge I quickly realised.

"I'm Edward, by the way," I decided to introduce myself, thrusting out my hand; despite the fact that she'd obviously just read my name and knew exactly who I was.

Her eyes flickered back to mine and she almost smiled. "Bella," she reciprocated, the tone of her voice easing a fraction as she placed her hand momentarily in mine.

Bella? Shit! I'd been saying her name wrong for three years!

"I don't think we've ever met before," I added. It was the first thing that came to mind.

"I don't think so," she replied, her voice softening, but there was a cynical edge to it; as if she were blowing me off, but I wasn't deterred. After three years I refused to fuck this up.

"What year are you in?" I asked, playing dumb.

"Ten," she answered offhandedly before curving both palms around the handle of the trolley and pushing off.

Shit, she was leaving. Shit, shit, shit!

"Do-do you need any help?" I burst, sounding a lot more desperate than I was comfortable with.

She paused and turned back to look at me. "You want to help?" She arched a dubious eyebrow. "Don't you have cricket practice, or something?"

She was... _patronising_ me?

"Not today," I answered, shoving my hands in the pockets of my trousers and shrugging; pretending I didn't notice.

Her gaze rested on me fully for a moment, as if she were gauging me closely for any signs I was bullshitting, before she relented. "Then, sure."

For the next twenty minutes I helped her organise the books into alphabetical order, before handing them to her to place back on the shelves. I intercepted a few times when they needed to be placed on the top shelf where she couldn't reach, but it didn't exactly lighten things up between us. I wasn't sure if she was shy or if I just made her uncomfortable. She didn't speak a word to me, and I was too much of a wimp to say anything more to her.

It was really bloody painful. She clearly didn't want me near her, and ironically, all I could suddenly think about was escaping.

The end of lunch bell signalled and I sighed internally in relief.

"Thanks for your help," she said lightly, continuing to shelve the books without turning to look at me.

"No worries," I muttered, turning on my heel and exiting the room. "Fucking _idiot_!" I berated myself when I was safely out of earshot.

"How'd it go?" Jake asked, catching up to me as I was heading to the science block, and slinging an arm around my shoulders.

"Shit," I replied glaring at him. He hadn't exactly helped, either.

"Serious? Huh…" He sounded surprised; though, why I wasn't sure. Despite what the Slut Pack insisted, I was no ladies' man. "I got the cane for fuck-all, then."

"Suck shit!" I retorted. I wasn't in the mood for him. I was defeated and suddenly convinced I'd been completely wasting my time for the last three years.

"What the hell are you bitching for?" He squeezed his hand to the back of my neck. "She was probably just wondering why _stud-boy_ , Edward Cullen was bothering her."

I paused to contemplate it, only to groan partially beneath my breath. I hadn't taken into account that my latest reputation, courtesy of Lauren Mallory, wouldn't work as a positive. Especially not for the straight-A student who hung out every day in the library.

"Shit—these fucking girls are doing my head in," I mumbled, becoming increasingly pissed off. "You know the reason I got a duck last week? Because Jessica Stanley flashed her tits at me—right there on the fence-line!"

He started laughing. "I heard that, but I thought she was full of shit! How big are her tits?"

"Small!" I grumbled.

"So, you have to convince 'library girl' that you're not the stud the year 11 girls are insisting you are," Jake murmured to me after fifteen minutes into Chemistry class.

I snorted. "No shit."

"Hm, that's a hard one..." He mulled it over for a second before seeming to come up short. "Dunno, mate. Why don't you just ask her out? If she's as smart as you say she is then she wouldn't be the kind of girl who paid attention to that kind of crap."

"Yeah, maybe..." I mumbled, releasing a deflated breath. I wasn't counting on it, though.

"If you chuck it in already, I'm going to dack you in the middle of the oval at next week's game," he half-heartedly threatened me.

I grinned to myself. It was a good thing he had confidence in me, because I sure as hell didn't. "Yeah, sure, mate."

I stopped going to the library. Final HSC exams were starting in a couple of months, and I didn't need the distraction. Pop had promised to buy me a car for my eighteenth birthday, but only if I got an ATAR higher than eighty. It was a stretch, but I really did need a car. He didn't like me or Emmett taking advantage of James, his driver, and taking the bus was shit. I was usually forced to scab a lift from Jake, and his car reeked of sex.

Of course, the Slut Pack offered to drive me to and from school, and anywhere else in between, but I'd rather take public transport. Especially when I noticed Bella was taking the bus home more often, as well.

After our run-in in the library, she'd returned to her natural stance around me. If I was able to catch her gaze, which wasn't often, she'd flash me a tight smile, but otherwise she kept herself within her own world of books and homework—even while waiting at the bus stop.

Then, Emmett, noticing how frustrated she was making me, decided to intervene.

One afternoon, not too long after the library incident, he brazenly walked over to her and sat beside her on the bench of one of the bus shelters she was waiting in.

She immediately looked up in surprise, while I almost died.

"So, I heard my brother knocked you for six last week?"

She only stared at him for a good several seconds, before replying, "Something like that..."

"Geez, what a prick. Want me to deck him?"

With my hands suddenly shaking, pissed off that he'd pull this shit and make a dick out of me, I whipped my phone from my pocket and sent him a text: **I'll fucking kill you, you cunt!**

"Uhm..." She looked lost for words, when my brother's message alert pulled his attention from her to his phone.

Smirking to himself, he typed back: **You wish, pussy,** before again turning to her. "Did he apologise?"

"Ah, yeah..." she replied, her entire expression flooding with uncertainty.

Emmett scoffed. "Yeah? I find that hard to believe." He turned to me. "Hey Edward, get over here and make it up to—what's your name again?"

"Bella."

"To Bella!"

She turned to me then, her eyes locking with mine, and there was something really wary about her expression.

"Well, hurry up!" Emmett added, raising his voice for added measure, and I really was going to kill him.

"You've gotta be shitting me..." I muttered beneath my breath, pulling myself from the pole of the street sign I was leaning against before walking reluctantly toward her.

I passed Emmett, shoulder barging him deliberately as I did. "You're a real cunt, you know that?" I said lowly.

He only snickered.

With a heavy sigh, I sat next to Bella—who by this point looked like her skin was crawling—and dropped my bag between my feet.

"I'm sorry." I leaned fractionally toward her without turning to meet her gaze. "Emmett's a... _arsehole_." It was not the word I wanted to use.

"It's okay," she replied simply. I expected her to be as awkward and uncomfortable around me as she was in the library but she almost sounded at ease.

Of course, right at that moment, Jake pulled up in the bus zone in his black beemer X5, and slid the passenger side window down.

"Get in, cunt!" he called out to me. Without waiting for a second invitation, I pulled myself to my feet, again with more relief than I should have felt, when Jake suddenly added, "Hey, you too, library girl."

I froze.

"N-No, it's fine," she insisted, but Emmett decided to get in on it until I started to suspect the bastards had orchestrated it.

Strolling back over to her, he grabbed her backpack. "Come on—what was your name again?"

"Bella."

"Well, come on, Bella. We'll give you a lift."

She opened her mouth to continue protesting, but ignoring her, Emmett grabbed her hand. "Where do you live?"

"She said she was fine, Emmett!" I snapped, and on impulse I grabbed her free hand, pulling her to a stop.

"Are you coming, or what?" Jake hollered again. "Make your bloody minds up before the bus comes!"

Neither I nor Emmett moved, while Bella stood between us looking like we were dragging her off to date rape her.

"Where do you live, library girl?" Jake asked. "I don't mind dropping you home—promise."

"Bellevue Hill," she answered, sounding so intimidated I felt the need to put her at ease.

"It's fine, Bella. You really don't have to."

"Bullshit, you knocked her over in front of half the school, you owe her one!" Emmett winked at her, before he released her hand and headed toward the car. "I bags the front seat."

It left the two of us standing just off the side of the road, holding hands. I let go of her immediately. "If you're more comfortable catching the bus..." She literally lived only a couple of kilometres away, after all.

"I don't mind," she seemed to decide, shrugging a shoulder before taking a step towards Jake's car.

Noticing she'd agreed, Jake jumped from the driver's side and rushed around the boot to pull open the rear passenger door for her. "After you."

"Thanks," she murmured.

"What are you doing?" I accused him in a whisper.

"Giving her a lift," he answered as if it were all really innocent.

"Fucking dickhead," I replied, only half under my breath before I climbed in the back seat after her.

Then after giving Jake her address, he entered it into his GPS and we left.

She didn't speak a word the entire trip, which was little more than five minutes. And when Jake pulled up in front of her house, a white Federation mansion you could barely see behind the huge iron gates and multiple Jacaranda trees, she thanked him politely for the lift, offered a simple "bye" to me and Emmett, and got out.

I never saw her waiting for the bus again.

* * *

 ***A guy calling another guy "cunt" is a part of the mate code. Don't ask me why.**

 ***Spunk – Good looking.**

 ***ATAR – Australian Tertiary Admission Rank. A rank of 70 is needed for, say, a Bachelor of Education, and a rank of 99 is needed to study medicine etc,.**

 ***Dacks – Pants. To dack is to pants someone.**

 ***A duck – Cricket term which means getting out without making a single run.**

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: My max is posting 4 chapters with a new story, so the next one probably won't be back-to-back. But hey, thanks for all the faves and follows. I feel all up myself.**  
 **I'll try and explain anything that I think might be confusing. If I miss something just ask. It's all good. I know we have a weird language down here.  
After this chapter there's one more from Edward and then it's over to Bella.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Edward.**

Our last cricket match for the season was a couple of weeks before the start of the HSC. We were playing against The Kings School; the only real competition we had, and the day prior to our first match we had training during the two periods before lunch.

To get to the cricket oval, we had to pass through the girl's section of the school, and with ten minutes before lunch, Jake and I were heading back to our lockers. We made sure to stick close to the gym and away from the senior girl's classrooms to avoid the Slut Pack, as well as Carmen Denali; Jake's latest girlfriend who he was in the process of dropping. He didn't want to start his post high school life tied down, was his reasoning.

The gym intersected the two halves of the school, and just as we were approaching the main entrance, the doors opened and out staggered...Bella.

I knew straight away she was in trouble. Her hair was plastered to her forehead in sweat, her lips were rapidly turning blue, and even where Jake and I stood at least twenty feet away from her, we could hear her wheezing.

She was dressed in her sport uniform. It hung limply from her as if it was two sizes too big, before she stopped walking and clung to an arbour post.

Jake immediately shoved me forward, and I reached her just as she was about to collapse.

"Bella! Are you okay—do you need your inhaler?" I exclaimed, flooding with alarm as I pulled her into my arms. Her colour looked awful.

She only nodded, and while she was struggling to breathe, I could feel the rate of her heart through her clothes. It was hammering.

"Okay, where is it?" I asked.

"Mate, shouldn't we take her to sickbay?" Jake spoke up.

She shook her head, seeming suddenly anxious. "N-no. No sick...bay."

"Okay, but where's your inhaler?" I put to her one more time as she slumped further against me.

"My...locker."

"Let's go," I said, turning to Jake. He nodded.

Jake and I attempted to help her walk for a few metres, but quickly realising it was hopeless, I hoisted her into my arms and hurried my step to the girl's main hall; where the lockers were.

We arrived less than a minute later, considering I'd never been in the girl's section of the school before and I had no idea where I was going.

"Which one is your locker, Bella?" I asked her a little too anxiously, but her complexion was really starting to freak me out.

"Fifty seven," she answered breathlessly, her head slumping to my shoulder, while Jake ran ahead to locate it.

After finding it and getting Bella to relay her combination, Jake yanked it open and literally pulled out everything inside before finding the blue inhaler. He even helped her place it in her mouth, before he pushed the puffer something like fifteen times, all in quick succession.

"Jake—Christ. Not so much!" I insisted.

"Well, look at her!" he burst, his eyes wide. "She looks like she's going to keel over!"

With shaking hands, Bella took the inhaler from him, taking several deep breaths in until her breathing slowly began to clear.

"What are you boys doing in here?!" Mrs Cameron, the junior girls head teacher, suddenly demanded, before rolling up the pile of sheets she held in her hand to whack Jake in the back of his head.

That's when she noticed Bella, who was still lying pale and shaky in my arms, before her expression immediately smoothed out in concern. "Isabella! What happened, dear?"

"She had an asthma attack, Miss," I explained. "There was no time—we had to get her inhaler."

Nodding, the teacher ushered me forward with her. "Okay, take her to sickbay, Mr Cullen—Mr Black, return to the boy's quad!"

With Mrs Cameron escorting me, I carried Bella to sickbay and laid her down on the bed. She was breathing easier and gaining some colour back in her cheeks, while her lips weren't so blue, but still, the nurse made her lie down for the rest of lunchbreak.

I stayed with her, sitting myself in the single chair in the room, at Mrs Cameron's insistence. Bella looked...annoyed. Something she eventually explained to me.

"Great, Mrs Cope will ring my parents and my father will chuck a mental for not having my inhaler on me." She turned to glance at me, before expelling a heavy, frustrated breath.

"Ah...shit," I said in understanding. Her old man looked like he could snap your neck just by looking at you, after all.

"Bloody hell..." she murmured, sounding suddenly close to tears, before she turned to gaze at the ceiling; pushing her hair back off her brow.

"Can't you just tell him you lost it?" I suggested.

She uttered a short, sarcastic laugh. "That'll only make it worse. That will make me _irresponsible_ , and there's nothing he hates more."

Irresponsible? I didn't know Bella all that well, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't a word you could use to describe her.

"If it's any consolation, my mother's a narcissistic mental case as well," I offered, having absolutely no bloody idea why.

Her eyes rested on me for a moment, before she openly rolled them. "That's the general consensus in the Eastern Suburbs, _darling_." She did a perfect mockery of the snobby, pretentious North Shore accent, and sounding exactly like my mother.

I broke into a grin, scoffing it softly to myself. We were victims of privilege, all right.

"Going to the alumni ball, darling?" She continued to unknowingly imitate my mother, before adding bitterly. "They're all so full of it!"

To put it bluntly, but I was kind of lost for words. She was surprisingly talkative and possibly the least snobbish girl in the entire school.

"Sorry, I'm in a shit mood," she explained with a sigh.

"Hey, don't apologise." I rose my hands, palms toward her. "You feeling better?"

"Yeah," she admitted, her voice dropping softly. "Thanks, by the way. Is it obvious I'm really crap at sport?"

"Just a little bit," I teased her.

She broke into a small smile. "Thank god I can pick my university preferences soon. I can't wait to get rid of PE."

PE was the first subject I kept, but I was pretty sure she was aware of that. I was pretty sure I was still a dumb-arse compared to her, too.

"So, what's the story with you and Jake?" she piped up after a moment of silence. "Were you two fighting in the library last month?"

I broke into a grin. "No, he was just being a dickhead. I didn't know you even knew Jake."

Her smile this time was broad, and kind of mocking again. "Are you kidding? Half the girls in my year are in love with him."

I snorted to myself. Yeah, Jake would just love that. "Oh, yeah? Who are the other half in love with?"

"You and your brother," she answered completely bloody candidly.

I faltered, pulling up short. "R-Really?"

She arched a cynical brow at me. "What, you didn't know that? Even with your _fan club_ chasing you around everywhere?"

"Erm..." I dragged my hand through my hair to the back of my neck, eager for an excuse to break her gaze. "No..."

Could I tell her I wasn't exactly fond of girls in general? Did I really want to out myself? It had to be better than letting her believe I was a sex-crazed stud courtesy of the bitches of the Slut Pack, though.

"Serious?" She was unconvinced.

"I'm serious." At least I tried to act like I was, but her expression was so sceptical it was making me smile; completely contradicting me.

She scoffed, not even remotely convinced; which only proved that Jake was wrong and she _did_ believe the bullshit the Slut Pack was spreading about me. That really screwed me over, because how could I convince her otherwise? I mean, just going by the last three school captains before me wasn't exactly helpful. They were bigger studs than Emmett and Jake combined. I'm pretty sure there was an unwritten law that in order to even qualify as School Captain you had to knock up the biggest slut in school. At least that's how I got it; never mind that I was a virgin before her.

Christ...

And just like that our easy conversation came to a screeching halt. I hated that my life was so simplified; especially by unhinged Year 11 bitches. And that Bella believed it. It made me feel exposed and ashamed of stuff I was completely innocent of. Okay, sure, maybe I did get Lauren pregnant, or maybe she was never pregnant at all, but it was pretty fucking shit that the one girl in the school I liked was basing her opinions of me off it.

Things got awkward, fast, until again my flight instincts were kicking in. I abruptly stood up, surprising her.

"You all right now?—'Cause, I have to pick up my lunch order," I outright lied.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered simply, throwing me that same tight smile again, and I left.

"For shit's sake," I muttered angrily to myself just as I was walking past Mrs Cope's desk. Of course the old cow overheard me and immediately sent me to the Headmaster's.

He didn't cane me, but then I hadn't been caned since Year Ten when I threw a carton of frozen Moove at Mike Newton's head in the quad. Instead, he shook my hand, and told me how proud he was of me for picking up my grades, and keeping my distance from the opposite sex after the 'Mallory girl incident'.

'Mother issues' and 'The Mallory girl incident': the two reasons why I couldn't get my shit together and ask Bella out, and the two reasons why she'd probably turn me down if I did.

 **. . .**

"What do you reckon this whole shit with the Slut Pack is all about?" I asked Emmett that afternoon as we waited for the ferry at Circular Quay. I was serious.

He shrugged a shoulder, his eyes glued to his new iPhone 3G. "They think you're a whore, and you're my brother so naturally you're a spunk."

I smirked to myself, but it was more out of scepticism. When you'd spent ten years of your life being constantly told you were a "pasty-faced little nothing" by your mother, like I had, it was a bit hard to feel at ease with the whole "spunk" label.

"Yeah, well not every girl gets off by a _whore_ ," I reminded him.

He glanced up from his phone and set his gaze on me; scrutinising me. "You still hung up on that Bella chick?"

"Pretty much," I admitted.

"Jesus, just ask her to the bloody Year 12 dance and get it over with. If she says no, then she says no," he said, sounding as if it frustrated him.

"Do you have her number?" I asked, noticing who he was texting; the queen of the Slut Pack herself, Jessica Stanley.

"Nah, her old man won't let her have a phone until she's eighteen."

"How the hell do you know that?"

He only quirked a cocky, all-knowing brow at me.

"Fuck sake... Why don't _you_ just ask her out, then?"

"Do you want me to? She'd probably say _yes_ to me. After all, I haven't fucked as many girls as you have." He laughed shortly to himself as he continued texting Jessica.

I huffed, shoving him to the side, before glancing over his shoulder to see what the hell he had to say to her.

She was coming to the final match tomorrow. Her and the rest of her Slut Pack.

"While you're at it, tell that mental bitch to leave me the fuck alone tomorrow. I'm not getting caught for a duck again!" I snapped.

"Excuses, excuses..."

We won the next day's cricket match against The Kings School, on their home ground. I almost made a century, but the best thing was, after Jake hit his first six Jessica Stanley, showing off, attempted to catch it. She missed of course, and it hit her smack in the middle of her forehead; knocking her out cold. The ambos were called and she was hauled off to St Vincent's Hospital. She was absent for the last couple of weeks of school, and only returned for the exams. And with her went the Slut Pack.

Thank fucking Christ!

But Jessica Stanley was the least of my troubles. The damage was already done, and if you believed her, and all the other would-be bitches in the senior years, I'd fucked eighty percent of them. And Bella had made it clear that she believed them.

Still, I wasn't giving up. I made up my mind to ask her out. Not to the formal, just 'out'. The formal wasn't until December, six weeks away, and I didn't want to wait that long. Plus, I figured if she agreed to go out with me, then she'd agree to be my date to the formal. If she said 'no', then fuck it. At least then I'd know, and after the exams were over I'd never have to see her again.

She was in the library, of course, but she wasn't shelving books. I found her in one of the study cubicles beneath a mountain of paperwork.

"Hey..." I tapped her lightly on the shoulder, making her practically jump out of her skin in fright.

"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed, placing her hand over her heart.

"Sorry, Bella..." Yeah, this was starting off well. "What're you studying for? Year Ten Certificate?"

"Yeah, or trying to anyway. I hate Maths," she complained.

"Yeah?" I was surprised. So, she was human after all, and I was actually pretty decent at Maths. "What are you struggling with?"

"Algebra, Trigonometry, Geometry— _everything_." She sounded frustrated, before propping her elbow on the table roughly and dropping her head into her palm.

"I can help you, if you like?" I offered. I'd taken advanced level Maths in Year 10 and managed to come in third behind Tyler Crowley and Eric Yorkie.

With her head still resting in her palm, she turned her eyes to me, and something sparked in them. "Yeah?" She sounded hopeful.

"Sure." I grabbed a chair in the cubicle next to her and pulled it alongside her.

Lunch break flew by and by the end of it we'd barely made a dent in Bella's workload. I offered to help her during every lunch for the next two weeks. I even skipped Year 12 'Muck-Up Day' to help her—which was just one big water bomb and food fight with the girls, anyway. By the end of it, Bella was a lot more confident, and so was I. We got along pretty well; she was actually really easy to talk to—and really bloody sarcastic in a funny way—beneath that "bookish, library girl' exterior of hers, and she seemed pretty grateful for all my help. So much so I was hoping she'd ask me out first, as a kind of 'thank you', but she didn't. It was all up to me.

I cleared my throat, roughly. "So, Bella..." I began after stonewalling myself for the entire lunchbreak as we watched the rest of Year 12 run amok, throwing food-dyed water balloons at each other. As School Captain they were all looking for me, but I was the last place they expected me to be. It was mine and Emmett's birthday, too, another reason they wanted to find me; even though I'd attempted to keep it quiet. Birthdays were always shit for me. Emmett got lavished with presents, while my mother made every excuse under the sun to justify why I never got crap. It was also the last school day before exams started. It was now or never. "You wanna see a movie or something Saturday?"

She turned to me, her eyes wide. "Oh..." She seemed surprised. "Um...Saturday night is my little brother's swim-meet finals."

Okay, she wasn't bullshitting. Saturday _was_ regional swimming finals. I was meant to go, as well, but I was never really serious about it, and I used the HSC as an excuse to get out of it.

"Okay...well, what about the week after?" I put to her.

She hesitated to consider it, her eyes dropping from mine before they quickly darted back again. "Okay, s-sure."

She didn't sound exactly sold by it, but she didn't say no, either, and the relief I suddenly felt was huge.

"Righto, well I'll be here next Friday doing my English exam. I'll come and find you after, okay?" I was grinning like a moron, but I couldn't help it, and in return she smiled. It was warm, sincere; which wasn't like her, at all.

She nodded. "Sure."

That night Jake, Emmett, and I went out to celebrate the end of school, as well as our eighteenth birthday. We met up with a bunch a guys from Sydney Grammar and went to a club in Oxford Street. I got blind drunk and spent the rest of the next day hung-over and sick as a dog.

Jake slept over our place, and at seven that night, Pop pulled the three of us out of bed for dinner, forcing us to eat. I didn't last too long before I went back to bed, only for him to wake us up again at Midnight.

Bella was in a critical condition at Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. On the way back from the Olympic Aquatic Centre—where the swimming finals had taken place—a semi-trailer had run up the back of her father's Mercedes, instantly killing her entire family.

* * *

 ***The legal drinking age in Australia is 18.**

 *** A "six" (six points) in cricket is hitting the ball over the boundary fence without it touching the ground first. The term "knocked for a six" comes from this. A cricket ball is similar to a baseball, but a lot heavier.**

 ***Muck Up Day is when the Year 12s have permission to go crazy. They water bomb everyone, including teachers.**

 ***The North Shore and Inner Eastern suburbs of Sydney, on the harbour, are where all the one percenters live. Super posh.**

 ***Ambos – Ambulance.**

 ***Moove – flavoured milk in a carton. We eat it frozen here because it's so bloody hot half the time.**

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading and let me know how you liked, or didn't.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey. I'm just going to drop this off before I crash. Sorry I didn't get a chance to thank everyone who left a review, or give spoilers. Totally shit of my, I know. But hey, I've written a few chapters this weekend so I'll do another post tomorrow. This ones Edward's last before we finally hear from Bella.  
Thanks for all the faves and follows. In the 120s now, already.  
BTW, this isn't edited yet. Kimmie45 is doing them and I'll eventually replace the posted chapters. As of now they're all me and my multitude of imperfections.  
xoxo**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Edward.**

It was all over the six o'clock news: Famous Sydney Barrister Charles Swan, his wife and two of his three children, dead. Bella's photo was splashed across every newspaper for weeks; the only survivor who would wake up an orphan. If she woke up, at all. The doctors at RPA weren't sure she was going make it; she had extensive internal injuries as well as multiple broken bones. They placed her in an induced coma, and then they couldn't bring her out of it.

Then came the scandals. Bella's old man had a mistress and two children. She contested the will, and took most of his estate. She even moved herself and her kids into Bella's Belleview Hill home while she was still lying in a coma. Bella's mother had essentially entered into the marriage penniless. She had nothing to leave to her daughter.

I was gutted, and I was so consumed by it I completely fucked my exams. Pop, using his influence, pulled some strings to get Sydney University to bypass my HSC results and offer me an entrance exam. I passed and was accepted to do a Masters of Education in Health and PE. Pop bribed me, dangling an Audi in front of me if I did a Master's degree instead of a Bachelors. It meant compacting a four years teaching course into two, but I really didn't want any distractions at that point. Plus, being an alumni sponsor, he made sure I didn't have to do the required 4 year undergraduate degree, because that's how much power he had.

Jake was coming to Sydney Uni with me. He got an 81 in his ATAR and was accepted for a Master's in Business. Unlike me and Emmett, Jake wasn't allowed to make decisions about his own life. A business course was mandatory for him, and after he graduated his father would appoint him to an entry level position in the family business. If Jake refused, he'd be cut off and disinherited.

He was surprisingly chill and accepting about it all, but then he'd been groomed to take over his father's business from the time he was born. It was all he knew.

Emmett got a trade in joinery; something Pop again organised for him. Ten years ago it would have been a scandal for Carlisle Cullen's only grandsons to seek out blue collared careers, but Pop had never been the same after our grandmother died and his priorities had done a complete one-eighty. And while he might have officially retired, his influence was still pretty far reaching; no one would dare criticise him, or me and Emmett over the paths we chose to take.

Bella woke from the coma two months later, with amnesia. She didn't remember anything of the accident; in fact, she didn't remember anything from the last three years. Jake, Emmett and I attempted to go and see her a few times, but her grandmother had crawled out of the woodwork and had taken over responsibility of her. She refused all visitors; something not even Pop could change.

She was discharged from hospital the following February. Her grandmother took her to Adelaide with her to live, and that's the last I ever heard of Bella Swan.

A few weeks later Jake and I started uni, and I didn't have time to dwell on the girl I was in love with in high school. I did attempt to find her, to reach out to her if nothing else, but she appeared to have disappeared off the face of the planet. I couldn't find any evidence that Isabella Swan had ever existed. She wasn't on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, nothing, and every Google search I did ended with her family's accident. It was as if she'd died with them, and for a while it was just easier to tell myself she had.

Jake and I graduated two years later, and while he was sent immediately to work, I took a year off. Pop was good about it, so long as it was no more than twelve months.

I went to Queensland and spent most of my days alternating between lying on the beaches of the Gold Coast and surfing. I met ordinary people there; the kind of people whose first questions to me weren't how much my father/grandfather's annual income was, or what suburb I lived in. I was just some kid deferring a year after uni.

One of the people I met there was Kate. She was a 26 year old Psych Major from Monash University, and it was her who convinced me that my childhood experiences with my mother had left me with an irrational fear of women. That was an interesting couple of months. I let her get in my head for a while, and even coax me into bed, but in the end it was too much too soon. The closer to me physically that Kate became, the more anxiety I felt, until my flight instincts inevitably kicked in.

"Call me when you've got rid of your demons, handsome," was the last thing she said to me as I saw her off at Gold Coast Airport when she was returning to Melbourne.

Jake and Emmett joined me for a couple of weeks just after Christmas before the three of us returned to Sydney together. My sabbatical was over and life was about to start.

Pop got me a position as a cricket coach at Scots College, an all-boys boarding school—which was huge for a twenty-one year old, one year out from uni. I only lasted a year. Aside from the fact that the school was on the same street as Bella's old house—now her father's mistresses—in Bellevue Hill, I was sick to death of the bullshit elitism and pretentiousness that came with Sydney's wealthy elite. I left and went full stateside. I applied myself, without any help from Pop, and was accepted for a position teaching PE at Killara High School on the Upper North Shore. And while still considered _upper crust_ , it's slightly more down to earth than the snob bastards of the inner eastern suburbs.

Emmett and I continued living with Pop in his house in Neutral Bay on the harbour; where we'd been living since we were ten and he'd taken custody of us from our mother. But after Emmett finished his apprenticeship, he moved out on his own. I remained with Pop, and when I was twenty-two, and after he started becoming concerned by my lack of _female acquaintances_ , he sent me to a shrink. I was diagnosed with a mild form of Gynophobia, something that got steadily worse as I got older; when the girls of my age became women.

I knew it had become a problem when I was in Queensland. I had allowed Lauren Mallory to seduce me into sex at seventeen a lot easier than I had Kate, four years later. I was able to pass off Lauren, and the Slut Pack, as still kids and therefore still harmless. But Kate was a woman, and that was a different story.

I spent four years—and thousands of dollars—rotating between my shrink and a psychotherapist to overcome this defect in my personality courtesy of my mother, and I was twenty-six when I had my first real relationship. Her name was Tanya. Emmett set me up with her. She was a friend of the girl he was fucking at the time. She was a year older and a lot more experienced than I was. I relaxed and let her take the reins in the relationship, instead of overthinking everything. We lasted just under a year when I discovered that while I could tolerate—and even enjoy—being physical with her without descending into full blown anxiety, I really wasn't that into her.

She was blonde, Bella was brunette, and that was the problem. Bella. She was a ghost from my past who refused to fade with time.

Jake suggested I hire a private detective and track her down. Hell, I'd thought the same thing multiple times, but I knew if I got more invested in her, even in her memory, it'd leave me stuck in the past. I wanted to move forward; I'd lost enough time on my mother, and I didn't want to lose more because of a high school infatuation.

Because that's all it was.

A year later Pop died. It was another heart attack; they couldn't revive him this time. He was seventy-three. It ripped my heart out; he was the only father Emmett and I had. He'd put us back together, emotionally and physically, after my mother had inflicted almost irreparable damage on us, and he'd instilled in me a real sense of self-worth. Something I had none of when we came to live with him.

Everything was split down the middle between me and Emmett. I got the house. I hated living there on my own. It's seventy squares and way too large for one person. It's too big for two people, and being alone in it felt suffocating. I could have sold it and downsized, but it's my grandfather's house. I'd never be able to go through with it.

A few months after Pop's funeral Jake moved in. He took the ground floor and I took the first, and we met in the middle to watch Rugby League and Cricket on the weekends. Jake was happy to live there. His father put him on a base salary; wanting him to experience _hardships_ so he'd learn to appreciate his wealthy privilege. All Jake could afford was a shoebox one bedroom apartment in Erskineville, five kilometres south of Sydney's CBD. Plus, he preferred to bring women back to Pop's house. A house with a blue ribbon address and views of the harbour was a real "chick magnet" as Jake had said.

We tell most people it belongs to Jake. It's easier to believe that the son of William Black owns it than explaining how a High School Teacher can afford to live on the waterfront in Neutral Bay. I also don't like to explain, as Carlisle Cullen's grandson, why I'm "only a school teacher". It's no one's fucking business!

It also naturally veers women in Jake's direction, and we're both good with that. While I'm no longer technically "Gynophobic" I never really mastered being completely comfortable around them, or having them throw themselves against me. I hate when Jake's always bringing strange women into Pop's house, but now I just lock the doors that divides the two halves we live in and turn the TV volume up high.

He's met a new one; I've already lost count of how many it's been this year. If I had to guess I'd say it's the eighth, but this one's "the one" he claims. Yeah, right. I've heard that hundreds of times before; he's been saying the same crap since we were sixteen. He rarely stays with them longer than a few months, so I really don't see the point in meeting them, but he still insists on introducing them to me. I'm good with it, so long as it's not done at the house. I know what he gets up to, but I'd just rather not put any faces to it. He changes women so much it's never safe to assume that the woman I met Thursday is the same one screaming out his name on Saturday.

 **. . .**

"Mate—you still coming today?" Is how he decides to wake me this morning, after turning on my bedroom light and banging loudly on the wall several times.

After jerking immediately awake, I grab my phone, glancing at the time before groaning loudly in frustration; it's just past 6 am. "Jake—fuck! Did you forget I'm on holidays?"

"I'm leaving for work in a sec. Just wanted to make sure you're still down."

"Ever heard of a phone?—Fuck sake!" I utter, pulling my legs to the side of the bed and running my palms down my face.

"My secretary quit," is his explanation because as the elitist bastard he is he gets his secretaries to book everything—even lunch with me and Emmett.

I scoff, glancing over at him. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you slept with her."

"Hey, it was worth it."

"Wasn't it you who always said 'never get your dick wet at work'?" I remind him.

"Geez—I had a moment of weakness. Anyway, you go running every morning earlier than this," he replies, changing the subject as he loops his tie beneath his shirt collar.

"Not when I'm on bloody holidays, obviously." I pull myself reluctantly to my feet, stretching my arms before shoving past him and heading into the kitchen.

"Twelve thirty—don't forget," he reiterates, following me.

"Twelve-thirty," I repeat, still half asleep before switching on the kettle.

"Oi, do I look all right?"

I glance at him over my shoulder, wondering what he's on about. "For what?"

"For _Leah_..." he answers as if it went without saying.

I smirk, snorting it softly through my nose, before opening the pantry door and rummaging around for the coffee. "You have met her already, haven't you?"

"Of course I have—and do you think you can shave this time? Last time you turned up shit-faced and looking like a dero."

Straightening out, I turn to him. "That's because you yanked me out of bed at 3 am to celebrate what's-her-face's negative pregnancy test, remember?"

"I needed emotional support. You know how much shit I was packing thinking I'd knocked her up?"

I only shake my head to myself completely unconvinced before stirring my coffee and chucking the spoon in the sink.

"And you swore up and down Oxford Street you were going to stop fooling around," I point out before bringing the mug to my lips.

"I wasn't in the right frame of mind when I said that; therefore, it doesn't stand. Besides, I've listened to you go on about 'library girl' for years. You owed me one."

I've just taken a sip of my coffee when I almost choke. "When was the last time I mentioned her?" I challenge him, my voice straining.

"Last week."

"Bullshit!" Last week ten fucking years ago!" I insist, probably too defensively, but he's taking the piss. He knows I haven't mentioned Bella in years.

He quirks a smart arse brow at me but doesn't say anything, before pulling out a dining chair and propping his foot up to tie his laces.

"Coming to the gym tonight?" he asks, bending down to grab his briefcase where he'd left it dumped under the table the night before.

"Yeah...I don't know," I reply jerking a shoulder.

"Oh, sorry. I forgot you only like running around the streets like you've got a screw loose."

"Screw loose? Hey, I've never dislocated anything running."

"Apart from your balls, you mean? But since you never use them..." He coughs into his fist deliberately, before turning to leave.

"Yeah, you're a real smart arse..."

"Oi?" he adds, glancing over his shoulder at me. "If you come looking like a wino I'm going to set you up with her sister—and she makes horse noises when she cums."

"You've fucked her sister?!" Though, I don't know why I'm surprised. "Christ, I suppose you've fucked her mother, too."

"One thing at a time—12:30. Don't be late!"

 **. . .**

What the hell is it with Jake and gold diggers? He could have any woman he wanted, but he still goes for the same shallow breed of social climber. Usually blond and _always_ trashy and delusional. Every single time. Maybe they're so desperate to become a part of his inner circle they're phenomenal in bed, but I've never seen the appeal.

I don't bother shaving. I have no intention of making an effort for a woman whose name I'll forget next month, and Jake, making excuses for me, introduces me as his "cousin from Campbelltown".

Smart arse.

"Oh...hello," this woman replies, her voice cool and clearly unimpressed, as she deliberately looks me up and down before back to Jake. "Where do you want to sit, darling?" She speaks with a fake upper-class accent that can't hide her native western suburbs roots.

I break into an immediate grin that I don't bother concealing from Jake.

"By the fountain," Jake answers, looking at me and scowling, and grabbing his elbow she pulls him ahead of me.

Despite Jake's warning this morning, I was late, but finding a decent park in the city is shit at the best of times. I should have caught the ferry. I arrived twenty minutes into Jake's lunch break at Metro St James Café in Hyde Park—an indoor/outdoor café under several marquees—with a bag of Maccas in my hand. Just to piss him off. No outside food is allowed inside the café, so after Jake and his new woman order takeaway, we're forced to eat elsewhere.

Walking a couple of feet ahead of me, Jake glances over his shoulder, his eyebrows pulling high; which is his way of gauging my reaction to his new _woman_. Yeah, I use that term loosely.

In reply, I outstretch my thumb and mouth "classy"; chuckling under my breath as he immediately glares at me. In a month he'll be bitching to me about what a shit root she was, anyway, so I don't know why he's always so pissed off when I don't immediately fall all over his newest girlfriend.

We reach the hexagon-shaped Archibald Fountain, and breaking ahead of him, his woman sits herself on the edge. This is when Jake grabs the back of my neck and pulls me close to him.

"Geez, you're a cunt," he murmurs lowly in my ear, before he replaces his hand with his elbow and puts me in an almost inescapable headlock. "Holy shit!" he suddenly exclaims, releasing me, and when I straighten up, shoving him back from me, I turn and follow his gaze. "Mate, is that... _library girl_?"

* * *

 ***Campbelltown is a working class city that the super wealthy view as some kind of leprosy.**

 ***Dero – Derelict. Hobo.**

 ***Maccas – McDonald's.**

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Here's 6 as promised. See all in the morning! Or whatever time zone you're in. 2 am Monday morning here Sydney time. We're having a sickie tomorrow.  
Anywho, hope you enjoy Bella's mind.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Bella.**

When I was twelve my mother sat me down and had "the talk" with me. I was told information I'd already been taught in 5th grade, only sugar-coated with euphemisms, like "my body was a budding flower that would soon bloom", and that "my virtue was as precious and irreparable as fine crystal". In other words, my approaching womanhood had the potential to bring shame upon our good family name and could take us all down with it.

This talk coincided with my transfer to Sydney Grammar School; which I suspected was my mother's main motivation for it. Something that came with an additional warning; what boys I should avoid like the plague.

I was advised to stay clear of the following:

Families that were within the one percent of the one percenters. Aka: the infamous old money conglomerates and their up and coming heirs.

The School Captain, or captains of any sporting teams, and any member of the "Young Liberals".

The best looking—especially if it was accompanied by a "bad boy" reputation.

The playboys; the boys who were always caught up in one sex scandal after another.

And finally, the dunces. The boys who were set to inherit their father's million dollar enterprises like one does hair colour, and therefore had no need for a decent university entrance rank.

Edward Cullen fit into every category.

The elite of the elite? Check.

Carlisle Cullen, the son of a self-made insurance mogul, was practically royalty within the Eastern Suburbs and North Shore social circles; outranked only by the Packers and the Murdochs. Rumour had it his two grandsons were the illegitimate result of an _unholy union_ —a one percenter who marries outside of their species. Which is essentially anyone who lives south of Paddington or west of Balmain. If they're from the Far West it's whispered about like a dirty little secret that must not be named. And the South West? Christ, no. It's considered the unforgivable sin. A death in the family garners less sympathy. Of course, being that Edward and Emmett were "Cullens" the disgrace of their DNA was easily absorbed by the power and prestige of their grandfather, and barely left a dent.

School Captain? Check.

Sports Captain? Check, check, check, check.

Playboy? Check.

When a boy's anatomy has its own fan club, it's safe to say he's a playboy. Plus, if Jessica Stanley was privy to the size, length and endurance of said anatomy, you could bet your stock prices on it.

Bad boy? Check.

Edward Cullen was notorious for pulling pranks and giving the teachers shit. In fact the first time I ever saw him he was waiting to see the Headmaster. When the teachers spoke of him it was accompanied with an eye roll, or a deliberate drop in the tone of their voices that gave away the fact that they were counting down the seconds until he graduated.

Good looking? Bloody check.

Edward was easily the handsomest boy Sydney Grammar had turned out in years. He was in possession of all the correct requirements; height, shoulder-width, face symmetry, eye-colour, etc. Christ, his jaw and cheekbones alone looked like they were bloody chiselled from granite, and he had a smile that could melt an iceberg.

He was a demigod of high school.

Yeah, he was gorgeous, and he knew it.

A decade later, he's still gorgeous, even with a six o'clock shadow and wearing a scuffed up "Bonds" hoodie. He looks like he's spent eight hours in hair and make-up to make him look deliberately dishevelled for a photoshoot about the homeless crisis of the western suburbs.

My father would have welcomed a son in-law like Edward with open arms. He _sent_ me to Sydney Grammar to meet boys like Edward, and to marry one. To him, daughters were little more than an inconvenience to be quickly married into good stock to strengthen the family name and influence. Like a bloody business merger.

Their only requirements are to be beautiful and well turned-out. Anything else is immaterial, darling. Trophy wives don't need brains, and especially not opinions. Their role is to be an extension of their husbands; to stand beside him when required, but learn to be segregated from the opposite sex as a whole. They don't work or have their own careers. Their sole purpose is to raise _his_ children to be future clones of him, and everything, from being in the right social scenes, to hosting charitable events and fundraisers, is for his benefit. This is on top of keeping themselves in prestige condition to delay the inevitability of becoming a part of the first wive's club.

My mother was apart of the _second_ wive's club—the first apparently couldn't provide him with heirs and was quickly replaced—and was considerably younger. She met my father as an up and coming model who was just beginning to make international headway, and my father saw in her the perfect accruement that would reflect his social standing and status. Her beauty was a prize to be paraded, and something that compensated for her lack of _breeding_. After all, she was young enough to be properly moulded.

She was bloody miserable, and despite outward appearances as the perfect, beautiful, successful family that we presented as a whole, she had less respect for my father than he had for her. Their marriage was a sham; strictly for pretences.

My mother knew about my father's infidelities. Christ, she'd have to be blind not to. He'd never been faithful to her, and he never even bothered to hide it. It was a common by-product of marrying into money. Rich, successful, powerful men had far too much virulence to be contained by only one woman. Taking a mistress was commonplace for men like my father, and an unspoken clause in every marriage contract. My mother was expected not only to tolerate it and to overlook it, but to excuse it.

"He works so hard for his family to provide them with the very best of everything. We shouldn't begrudge him for such a small indiscretion". That's how it usually went.

The narcissism of the super wealthy. I hated it, and I hated him.

The scandal wasn't that he had a second family on the side; the scandal was that it became known. Death is a preferable alternative than to be outed as my father was, and in hindsight he'd probably opt for it.

My brothers and I? We didn't know about half of it. My mother kept most of it from us. Of course, being under the same roof we knew our family was far from perfect, but when I inevitably found out the whole truth I was so angry at the injustice of it, I could have committed murder. I haven't mourned my father's death once, and I never will.

My brothers, and my mother, though? Christ... That's another story.

My brothers, being the sons of our family, were raised differently from me. My father expected perfection from them, and to follow in his footsteps. The older of the two, Charles Jr—Charlie—was my father's pride and glory. One year younger than me he was captain of the debate and calculus clubs, and starting halfback in Sydney Grammar's rugby team—alongside the Cullen brothers. He also held the record for Sydney Grammar's Junior Boy's 100 metre Butterfly. Unlike me, Charlie didn't have to work for my father's approval. He was born with it by gender and only acquired more of it as he got older.

The younger of my brothers, Sam, didn't have it as easy. After my mother began to suspect my father's repeated indiscretions she decided to engage in one of her own—something frowned upon in our inner circle. She made sure my father found out about it; she deliberately meant to humiliate him, and she did. It sent him into a blind rage. It was the first time I ever saw him hit her, but it's something I will never forget—or the sound of his palm striking her cheek bone before the impact of it threw her across the room. My blood still chills to my bone every time I think of it.

She became pregnant with Sam not long after and my father refused to accept he was even his son; even after a DNA test proved Sam was in fact a Swan. The fact that one was even required was enough for my father to resent him. Sam was tall and handsome like my father, and smarter than Charlie, but nothing he did was ever good enough. It eventually sent him spiralling into a deep depression, and to keep him away from my father my mother sent him to board at The Kings School.

In a morbid way death was Sam's escape, and if the accident hadn't taken his life, I was certain _he_ would have at some point.

As for my mother, Renee's Swan's life and death played out like a Greek tragedy. She was the rose that was taken from the sunlight and placed into darkness to wither and die. Her beauty was exploited by a cold and callous man who never once appreciated her. She couldn't save herself, but she tried to save me; to protect me from making the same mistakes as her and marrying a man like my father.

A man like Edward Cullen, who's now bloody staring at me as if I have a second head. Christ, I knew today was going to be a bad omen when the heel of my shoe broke on a crack in the footpath. Alice invited me to eat at the Sheridan with her, but I wasn't in the mood to be sleazed over by the corporate arseholes who always lunched there.

Instead, I went to Hyde Park and ran into Edward Cullen. Impossibly gorgeous Edward Cullen.

Christ, life can be bloody cruel.

Although we went to the same high school together, we were practically in different dimensions; two planets orbiting the same sun. I didn't often see him, or cross paths with him, but the few times I did, he always looked at me as though I confused him; as if he were wondering what kind of bloody species of mutant I descended from. Overall, I wasn't too concerned about him—aside from his obvious similarities to my father. I had ambitions that didn't include _marrying well_ , but getting a good ATAR and going to uni so I could provide for myself. I refused to be anyone's property and to conform to the deeply-rooted bloody misogynistic social norms of the wealthy elite. I also wanted to prove to my father that there was nothing special about him; that I could be just as successful as he was. Even more so.

Charles Swan _QC_ played the proud, dutiful father well. He came to every school awards ceremonies and presentations, putting on a good show in front of the very same families he disparaged behind closed doors. He just _loved_ when they made remarks, such as "Isabella definitely got her intelligence from her father". That reflected well on him, and therefore, I was fulfilling what was expected of me.

It was never about me, or my mother or brothers; _everything_ was about him.

I noticed the way he watched Edward and his brother win every award for sport our school participated in, and there was nothing fake about his admiration, either. They were the son in-laws he expected me to present him with, and it only solidified my conviction that the Cullen brothers would be the last two boys on the planet I'd ever have anything to do with.

Then things got bloody weird.

I got caught in the middle of some kind of physical bromance between Edward and Jake Black in the library. Edward literally collided with me and knocked me over. After, he insisted on helping me catalogue the books and put them away. He actually insisted on it, but at the same time he looked like he was bloody mortified to be within fifty feet of me. He kept giving me this really helpless look as if he wanted to confess that he felt obliged to help me but at the same time he didn't want to be seen with me.

I acted like a bitch, hoping he'd take the hint, but he didn't. Then when the bell finally sounded for the end of lunch he practically bolted from the library as if it were on fire. I figured it was a one-off and he was just upholding his civic duties as School Captain, but then his brother started paying attention to me, and Jake insisted I ride home with them.

Christ, my mother chucked a mental. She screamed at me and called me a 'whore' and then slapped my face so much the maid had to intervene. She was drunk, but then she always was back then.

Of course, then I had to go and have an asthma attack right in Edward's arms. Of all people, it had to be Edward and Jake. Thank Christ I barely remember any of it. My recollection returned when I was lying in sickbay—with Edward hanging around like some kind of bloody spectator.

That's when things got weirder, because he was actually being pretty gracious. He was chatting with me like we were friends and he was genuinely worried about me. At least for a little while, and then he got awkward again and made up some lame story to escape. It was as if he was trying to be a decent human being but his alter-ego kept reminding him who he was, and I was getting caught in the bloody crosshairs.

After that, I knew something was definitely suss. At the same time he started helping me study for the School Certificate, as well as being super sweet and accommodating, majorly-up-herself Rosalie Hale decided she wanted to be friends. The Rosalie Hales of the Eastern Suburbs did _not_ lower themselves to even acknowledge girls like me—no matter who my father was. At least not in high school, anyway. I knew there had to be an ulterior motive.

I started to suspect I was about to star in the opening scene of the school captain's final prank.

When Edward asked me out I became convinced of it. What's worse is I bloody accepted. I did put up an initial defensive and lied about being forced to go to my brother's swimming finals, but I quickly caved. I'm really not sure why. Maybe because, at sixteen, you just did not turn down boys like Edward Cullen for _any_ reason. Or maybe I had some kind of delayed reaction to all the Mills and Boons books I used to steal from my mother's dresser to read when I was eleven. Christ, all I can say for certain is I was fully prepared to aid and abet Edward Cullen in humiliating me. Maybe worse.

Whatever his plans for me were, though, he never got the chance to go through with them, because in a single moment in time my entire life as I knew it was stolen from me.

But here he is ten years later, standing before me; the boy, now a man, my mother warned me against.

* * *

 *** Young Liberals - Australian conservative political party for minors.  
* QC - Queen's Counsel**

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading.  
xoxo**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I've finished another chapter, so I'm updating again. I'm ten ahead, and I'm hoping to keep it like that. For the mean time, anyway. If another chapter isn't coming so well, I'll update around 5 days-ish from the last.  
Anywho...**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 7**

 **Bella.**

Christ, Leah Clearwater...? Now why doesn't it surprise me that she's going out with Jake Black?

She's just his type. Though, with one obvious exception; lack of wealth.

God, somethings never change.

I went out with Leah's brother, Seth, for a couple of months last year and learned that even without money guys can still be complete dickheads. That's how I met Leah, and while she's a nice enough person, she has the depth of a toilet.

"Oh, Bella!" she exclaims in a completely foreign-sounding vernacular, before dragging Jake and accidentally hobo-inspired, gorgeous Edward Cullen over to me.

It's funny, Jake and Edward appear exactly opposite to how I always imagined them as adults. While Jake stands in a three-piece Armani (I'm guessing) suit—the business attire of the corporate rich—and looking incredibly well groomed, Edward appears as though his entire wardrobe consists of articles of clothing he'd purchased from the Bonds shop on Market Street.

Maybe he's the new Bonds boy model; which would make complete sense. Of course he'd have to wear their clothes. Maybe without the holes, though...

I stand up from the park bench, anticipating her, and plaster a polite smile on my face, when Leah grabs me and kisses my cheek. It's a gesture widely considered the "Vaucluse social etiquette" in the eastern suburbs, and something Leah has obviously adopted.

Christ, the girl is really stepping up her game in the running of prospective trophy wives of 2018. Too bad she has a snowball's chance in hell of getting anywhere near St Mary's Cathedral on the arm of a Black or Cullen.

"Hi," I reciprocate when she releases me, my cheeks beginning to ache with the forcefulness in which I keep my smile intact.

"Oh," she turns to Jake, as if reminding herself, "this is my boyfriend Jacob _Black_ "—she puts blatant emphasis on his surname on the off chance I just might have heard of him and be consequently impressed. Which she would doubt. For all she knows I'm just a _poor westie orphan_ who has even less of a chance of snagging a rich husband than she does. "And this is his cousin, Edward."

 _Cousin_? God, have they married into each other's families already? I thought the standard age for the Cullens of the world to marry was no less than their mid-thirties.

What a complete waste of good eligible bachelor years...

"Hey, Bella," Jake replies, his tone surprisingly as warm as his smile. Something that his desperate-to-be-Mrs-Black girlfriend picks up on.

Edward only flashes me an awkward smile and turns to stare toward the fountain.

Christ, is he eating _McDonald's_?

"You know each other?" Leah is understandably shocked and more than a little threatened.

"Yeah, we went to the same high school," Jake explains just as Leah's eyes almost bug out of her head.

" _What?"_ She's aghast and obviously offended that I neglected to relay my blue-blood when I was in the sack with her brother.

"Only until Year 10," I amend, which makes Jake understandably uncomfortable before he too turns to stare at the pigeons scabbing bread crumbs from the Sydney lunchers.

Edward turns back to me and smiles again. The same look in his eyes he had when he was school captain—and stud—of Sydney Boys Grammar.

I flash him a deliberately smart arse smile; which only increases the depth of that expression. He's not wearing a wedding band, I notice. So, the cousin remark is confusing me.

"You should come Friday night, then," Leah offers, as though she expects me to have psychic abilities.

"Friday night...?" I fix my gaze back to her and ask blankly.

"I just moved into a new flat in Newtown. I'm having a small gathering," she explains.

I am shaking my head adamantly before she can finish her sentence. "Oh—no. No, that's fine. Christ, I'm sure you don't want me there."

"Of course I do," she insists.

Jake, now back to his warmth and friendliness, nods his head in agreement. Edward looks like he's on the verge of having an aneurysm.

I continue to shake my head. I cannot think of anything I'd rather do less than spend a Friday night going down Amnesia Lane with Edward Cullen and Jacob Black.

And Leah Clearwater, and who the hell am I kidding, more than likely her wanker brother, as well.

Before I can properly put my foot down, Leah has already given me her address. "6:30, okay?"

I glance down at the little piece of paper in my hand for a moment, before I'm forced into more Vaucluse etiquette with her. And then Jake.

And then Edward.

"Bye, Bella," he says in a rustic sounding voice, as if he's a heavy scotch drinker, before his stubbly face grazes momentarily against my cheek.

Christ, he smells good...

They collectively walk away, heading toward the furthest side of the fountain, while I yank up my purse from the park bench and rummage hastily around for my inhaler.

I'm beginning to wheeze, which seems like a bloody cliché.

It's not here. I left it in my desk drawer back at the office, I quickly realise; somewhere I immediately charge towards.

 **. . .**

I'm not going, I decide almost immediately. Why would I? Why would I purposely choose to socialise with two guys my mother explicitly warned me about? To do so would be sacrilegious, at the very least.

"I'm not going," I reiterate to myself stubbornly, as I sit in my parked car, looking out towards the set of flats; one of which belongs to Leah. "I'm not going!" I repeat, turning the ignition key. My car's engine starts smoothly, before I cut it again. "Shit!"

I'm late. I'd stopped a half a dozen times on my way here in a feeble attempt to talk myself out of it. Each time I crashed and burned before pathetically continuing on my journey. By the time I arrived it was 7 pm.

It's now quarter past.

"Well, this is shit," I mutter to myself in frustration before yanking the key from the ignition and reluctantly exiting my car.

In all honesty I have no idea why I'm even here. I can only chalk it up to a deeply-rooted sense of masochism. Or twisted curiosity. Though, if I'm being honest, a part of me wants to work out Edward Cullen. To find out the real reason he decided he was suddenly interested in me when he was on the verge of graduating.

And maybe to discover myself why I giggled like the proverbial school girl I always tried hard to avoid being, immediately after. Also, I know deep down, there's also a morbid sense of comfort and familiarity in the people who were once apart of my _old life_. Something I'm still drawn to. Which is bloody poetic considering I detested most of them.

I'm wearing jeans and a tan coloured cardigan. I didn't get the chance to enquire about a dress code, but knowing Leah and her delusions, I wouldn't be at all surprised if it's black tie. Oh, well. At least if it is, I'll have a convincing excuse to leave.

After finding the correct flat number, I wait outside for a further five minutes willing my legs to turn and walk away as I listen to the voices coming from behind the door. I Eventually, begrudgingly, knock.

The door opens, and before I can open my mouth, Leah is announcing my arrival with added sentiments of Vaucluse etiquette.

"Come in," she ushers me inside.

"Here, I brought you something." I hand her the box of 'Favourites' I'd picked up in the Shell servo after one of my failed attempts to veto the night. And what the hell, she thought I was a bogan anyway, so why disappoint?

"Oh, wow... _chocolates_." She clearly expected something more; especially considering Jake had already outed me on my secret identity. "Never mind, come in and let me introduce you."

I'm led through a small hall that opens onto a living room, where four people sit chatting on the Ikea lounges. Two are Jake and Edward. The other two, Emmett and Rosalie Hale.

Christ...I've wandered into High School. The Sequel.

All four pull themselves to their feet.

"Does everyone know Bella?" Leah puts to them before they arrange themselves in single file to greet me.

Jake is first, Edward is third. He smells just as good, though he's clean shaven this time and has ditched his Bonds hoodie for a navy Lacoste polo and an expensive-looking pair of jeans. Emmett...I barely recall, while Rosalie enquires as to why I'm so short.

I only stare at her for a moment, wondering whether she's been snorting cocaine—the recreational drug of choice for Rose Bay residents such as the Hales.

God, what a weird thing to say to someone after ten years.

Noting my obvious confusion, she elaborates, "No, I mean, wasn't your mother a model? You're pretty short."

How nice of her to bring up my dead mother on arrival. What a pleasant night this is already turning out to be.

"I was born at twenty-seven weeks. It stunted my growth. And made me asthmatic." I've learned to be blunt and candid as a rule. Why beat around the bush about the fact that I'm an orphan and my father's bloody mistress stole most of my inheritance? Let's just get all the awkwardness out up front.

"Oh, well fair enough..." is her reply, before she clears her throat deliberately and looks away.

"What a dick thing to say, Rose," Emmett pulls her up on her lack of tact, and she looks surprised.

"It's fine," I dismiss him, waving my hand. I learned pretty early on that the world wouldn't end if my rather unfortunate life story was brought into the conversation.

Edward looks uncomfortable, and I want to kick myself for coming. As if he has any plans on filling me in on his Year 12 scheme to laugh at the nerdy "library girl".

Leah ushers me into a mix-matched arm chair. "What are you drinking, Bella?"

"Wine," I reply, forcing the same tight smile to my face as I had the previous Thursday in the park.

"So, Bella, where do you live?" Rosalie again, and I shouldn't have been surprised.

"Crows Nest," I answer, while it was on the tip of my tongue to reply with 'Mount Druitt' just to see the look of horror flash on her face.

She arches a brow, obviously calculating how much inheritance I must have received in order to live on the North Shore, before she quickly masks it behind a smile. "Nice."

I nod, taking a sip from the plastic cup Leah places in my hand. I snort beneath my breath and almost choke on the cheap cooler wine that it's filled with.

God, she has a lot to learn...

My eyes meet Edward's; he's smirking subtly as though he knows exactly what's going through my mind.

"What do you do, Bella?" Bloody Rosalie again, and Christ, is she bored?

"Legal secretary," I state, giving her the reaction she's obviously been waiting for.

Her mouth falls open and she stares at me for a good three seconds. Her wide blue eyes fix to mine, and in them I can see the questions she clearly wants to ask. She wonders just how much I received from my philandering father that warranted such a distasteful, _low grade_ choice in career.

A secretary is barely a step up from being a member of the _help_ , after all.

"Oh, how fulfilling," she offers, her sincerity not nearly as authentic as her Chanel handbag.

God, she's still a bitch.

"Jesus, Rose!" Edward, this time, and he looks genuinely annoyed. I can't say for what reason, though.

"What?" Rosalie piles on the innocence, before taking a sip of her wine cooler beverage and failing to conceal her grimace.

For the next half hour I'm interrogated more by Rosalie. She asks me what car I drive, what brand of jeans I'm wearing and whether my Louis Vuitton is real.

"It was my mothers," I state, deciding to just add to the awkwardness and hope Leah will have the foresight to chuck in the towel early.

"Your mother had good taste," Rosalie notes, before she goes off into a genuinely bloody bizarre tangent about the limited edition purse collections of the last decade as though I'm supposed to be equally as enthralled as she is.

Edward's fists begin to tighten, and he rolls his eyes almost as much as I do. He offers me several apologetic smiles, throughout. I only shrug. I've spent enough time around the Rosalie's of the world not to get too offended by them.

Dinner arrives, courtesy of Pizza Hutt, and Rosalie's patience has officially severed. She decides it's time to leave. Pulling Emmett to his feet, she announces she has an early hair appointment in the morning. Emmett grabs two slices of pizza on the way out, and only the four of us are left.

I'm appointed next to Edward at the dinner table, while pizza is passed out on paper plates before the wine cask is placed in the centre of the table for purposes of self-serve. I'm contemplating staging an asthma attack when I suddenly realise I'm in the midst of one. Grabbing my mother's purse, I scour through it in search of my inhaler when once again, I realise it's not in there.

Bloody hell.

"I'll be back in a moment. I just have to get something from my car," I announce quickly, before pulling myself to my feet and exiting Leah's flat.

I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I don't have any intentions of returning.

My inhaler is not in my car's glove box, and I realise shit could be about to hit the fan. I'm usually really militant about keeping spares on hand, but I'd been so bloody wound up over this evening, I'd let myself slip.

I can't escape while my chest is so tight I can barely breathe, and so with no other option, I sit myself inside my car, close my eyes and concentrate on keeping my breathing even.

I'm not sure how much time passes when there's a knock on the passenger side window. My eyes fly open and I find myself staring into Edward's strangely unnerving gaze.

Christ, is he stalking me now?

He motions for me to slide the window down. I open the door instead.

"Are you okay, Bella?—Shit!" he exclaims and the déjà vu is uncanny.

I don't need to explain my predicament, he understands immediately, and in the next moment he's stalking off toward a blue Audi that's parked close by.

He returns less than a minute later, pulling an inhaler from its box and handing it to me.

I grab it a little too desperately, drawing the Salbutamol deep into my lungs several times until I begin to feel my airways opening up. Edward only stands over me in the doorway of my car, gazing at me with an intense look in his eyes, and it doesn't even occur to me to ask why he keeps a spare inhaler in his car.

"Thanks," I murmur, before feeling the need to explain. "I'm usually really strict about this kind of thing, but coming here tonight..."

Okay, I'm not ready to go that far, and catching myself I abruptly close my mouth.

God, I realise how it suddenly sounds.

I'm going to have to explain it, or run the risk of Edward thinking it's him who has me in such a tizz. Which it is.

Taking a heavy breath, I reluctantly continue, "Christ... What I mean is, my life is split into two halves; before and after." I pause to gauge his reaction.

He nods for me to continue, his expression becoming almost pained.

"It's just...weird for me to be around people from _before_."

He nods again, and this time it's him who releases the air from his lungs as if he really doesn't want to hear it. "I can understand that."

"I shouldn't have come," I conclude.

"Why _did_ you come?" he puts to me. He's not being rude or anything. He sounds curious.

I turn to stare at him for a moment. "God, I don't know." Because I don't.

His eyes are sympathetic, I realise, and so his is smile. But then sympathy is a fairly common emotion when it comes to me. I'm just not too fond of it.

"I'm really sorry, Bella. About..." He decides not to say it and I can't fault him for that. I know better than anyone how much of a mood killer it is. He looks down at his feet for a moment or two before his gaze returns to mine. "How long have you been back in Sydney?"

"Three years."

He nods for a third time as though he were contemplating it. He hums. "What made you decide to come back?"

I scoff, but it's more to myself and the bloody trauma that led me to this moment, than in reply to his question. Though, he misunderstands it and quickly opens his mouth to apologise, I assume.

I shake my head to immediately head him off. "Do you want the long story, or the short?"

I have no intention of telling him either, though. I just want him to stick around a bit longer.

Why? Christ knows...

* * *

 ***Vaucluse – super posh inner eastern burb on Sydney Harbour. We're talking 20 million plus for a house on the waterfront.**

 ***Westie – from the western suburbs.**

 ***Flat – apartment.**

 ***Favourites – a box of mini Snickers, Mars Bars, Cherry Ripes etc.**

 ***Servo – service/petrol/gas station.**

 ***Bogan – white trash.**

 ***Rose Bay – the burb next to Vaucluse; same level of uber poshness.**

 ***Mount Druitt – lowest socio-economic burb in Sydney. Lots of "bogans".**

* * *

 **A/N: Let me know how you liked/disliked. All good and thanks for reading.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I have a banner now for this story. It's on my profile if anyone wants to suss it out. Made by the very awesome Beegurl13.  
Thanks to Kimmie45 for editing. Her note's at the bottom. When she's not editing, she likes to pimp me. Oy...  
Anywho, I hope you enjoy more of Bella.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Bella.**

Edward gazes at me for the longest moment as if he fears I'm trying to trick him into something, but before he can open his mouth in reply it starts to rain.

"Shit..." he mutters, placing his palm out and glancing begrudgingly up at the sky.

"Jump in," I quickly offer. I'm sitting in the front passenger side of my car, and the only alternative for him is the driver's side.

He continues to gauge me obviously still not quite sure whether he should take me at my word, and Christ, does he think I'm going to take advantage of him?

"You're getting wet, right?" I put to him, tilting my head. I honestly don't recall him being so unsure of himself in high school. For the most part, he seemed to alternate between frustrated and cocky.

He flashes me a kind of sheepish, askew grin before half jogging to the other side of the car. After opening the door and sliding the seat back, he removes his phone from his back pocket and climbs in.

"You no longer wear glasses," he observes once he's settled himself beside me.

"Nope, I ended up having Lasik Surgery."

He gazes into my eyes for a moment as if looking for evidence of said surgery. He eventually nods, which is followed by an awkward silence.

"Hey, I'm sorry about Rose earlier. She's always been a bitch," he breaks the building tension while his expression darkens somewhat.

I half shrug. "Don't worry about it. The Rosalie Hales out there don't bother me. How long has she been with your brother?"

He snorts. "She's not but she wishes. She's in for a rude shock when she finds out how Emmett and I live."

God, that was a loaded statement, and I take the bait. "How do you and Emmett live?"

He pauses, as though he suddenly realises he's said too much. "Unconventionally," is all he gives away, a slight smile ghosting on his lips.

"Righto..." I'm not sure what else to say to that, and he obviously doesn't want to elaborate, so I change the subject. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Why did you ask me out in high school?"

He gives me a funny look as though my question confuses him while amusing him simultaneously. "Because, I liked you," he says so matter-of-factly that I hesitate.

"What?" I'm stumped.

"Is that so hard to believe?" His amusement has taken centre stage now, and it's a little irritating.

"Yes, actually."

"Why?"

"Christ, are you for real?" I'm becoming suspicious of him; more suspicious than I have previously.

He flat out laughs this time. "Why is it so hard to believe, Bella?"

He's piling on the bloody charm, but he can't reel me in that easily. "Because you could have had anyone—and you did."

He pauses for a moment and takes a very deliberate breath. "Did I?"

He's stumped me again, and this time, my mouth falls completely open. "You... _didn't_?"

"All those rumours about me in high school? Ninety-nine percent of them were bullshit," he admits. He's surprisingly straightforward, but I'm not convinced just yet.

"So you didn't get Lauren Mallory pregnant?"

"Erm...well, maybe that rumour was true." He looks suddenly uncomfortable.

"Do you have a kid?"

" _What_?" he blurts, looking suddenly horrified. "No—shit. I bloody hope not."

"You know the rumour was that she was sent away to have it," I relay to him, and bloody hell, the poor man looks like he might puke.

He shakes his head while looking like he's attempting to convince himself at the same time. "I-I only heard the rumours, too. Nothing was ever said directly to me."

I consider it for a moment. "Well, knowing Lauren Mallory, if she was pregnant there's no guarantee it was even yours."

"True." He smiles, as if he's grateful, but I'm not convinced just yet.

"If the rumours weren't true, why the hell would you go out with someone like her? You did know what a complete mole she was, right?"

He opens his mouth to answer, but shuts it again as if he's not sure what to say. "Because I was young and inexperienced, and I found out she liked me," he eventually admits, shrugging a shoulder.

"So, no sex orgies with Jessica Stanley and the rest of the 'ECSP'?" I arch a questioning brow.

His forehead furrows. "EC...oh geez... _No_. No sex orgies."

"Well, Christ, this is off-putting. You're making me question my entire high school reality," I say lightly.

He scoffs through his nose and turns to look through the windscreen out onto the road before us. "But you don't believe me."

"Hmm...yeah. Jury's still out on that one."

His smile doesn't wane, but it's obvious I'm making him uncomfortable. "This is a nice car," he murmurs, placing his hands on the wheel.

Nice? It's a Nissan.

" _Well, it's no Aston Martin, Darling_ ," I imitate Rosalie.

He laughs, and some of that discomfort fades from his face before he looks back over to me. "You were never into all that bullshit, were you?"

I tilt my head and contemplate it for a moment. "It was all I knew."

" _Was_?" His voice softens, looking suddenly uncertain, but then he is alluding to my dead family that I did sort of promise to explain.

Why? Christ, if I know. Maybe because when I got my memories back his bloody handsome face was one of the first images that went through my mind; and had stayed there since.

"Yes, _was_. Look, I'm sure my family's unfortunate story was discussed at the _Darlo Country Club_ numerous times, and you already know all the juicy details." I'm acting stroppy, and it's not as if it's his fault my father was a bastard. Especially now that he expects me to believe _he_ isn't.

And, suddenly, he looks like he wants to escape again, like he has a 'lunch order' he needs to collect.

It's strange the things that stick with you from high school.

"I can't say I've ever been inside the Darlo Country Club," he mumbles, and he looks embarrassed. For me or himself, I'm not entirely sure.

I sigh, and force myself into a minimal amount of humility. "So, you know what I do for a living. What do you do?"

"High school teacher," he answers so candidly that I only stare at him, probably the same way Rosalie had stared at me earlier; wondering whether he was mocking me or he was being honest.

"School teacher?" I repeat, unconvinced. He's wearing a Franck Muller watch and he's a public servant. That can only mean one thing; he's been disinherited.

"School teacher," he echoes me, but a smile is creeping on his lips again. "Remember I said Emmett and I live unconventionally?"

"God, were you cut out of the will?" I flat out ask him, and his eyes immediately widen.

A sound bursts from him, amusement mixed with surprise. "You're really blunt."

"So I've been told. Anyway, what's a rich boy like you doing working as a school teacher?"

He looks out the window again, the driver's side window this time, until I can only see the back of his head.

Well, shit, I've upset him.

He clears his throat softly. "Because my grandfather didn't want me and Emmett ending up like him."

"Christ, I'm sorry. I'm in a shit mood," I attempt to explain with a short sigh, he turns back to look at me, and that smile inches to the surface again. He smiles a lot, I note, probably because he knows he's even more bloody gorgeous when he does. His smile is sunny and contagious, and makes him appear almost childlike.

"Are you always in a _shit mood_ after you have an asthma attack?"

"Usually. Why do you ask?"

"Because you said the exact same thing to me after I dragged you to the sickbay in high school. Remember?"

"No," I answer, confused. He remembers crap I said to him ten years ago? Maybe I had this guy pegged wrong all along.

I hope to Christ I haven't, because...yeah... That's whole lot of hell I don't want to have to reassess.

"No?" This surprises him.

"No..." Is it that important to him that I remember, I wonder?

"You lost your memories..." is his conclusion, as if he's reminding himself. I hope he's not bloody reminding me.

"I did eventually get them back," I assert.

His eyebrows shoot up. "You did?"

"Yeah, but it took a while."

"How...how old were you?" His voice restricts, while that awkwardness begins to etch on his forehead. I know that expression too bloody well.

 _At least it was quick and they didn't suffer, dear_ – cue awkward expression.

Yeah, it was quick, I'm sure. As if that's some kind of consolation.

"It was just before I came to Sydney. I got pneumonia—which as you can imagine isn't uncommon for me—and I was hospitalised with an off the charts temperature. I guess the fever triggered my memories, because when I woke up I remembered everything.

He only stares at me, that awkwardness expanding until I can't bloody stand it.

"It's fine." It's amazing when you're the one who went through hell, and yet you find yourself constantly putting others at ease because of it.

"Of course, it's not fine." His tone is too serious, and he's really starting to frustrate me.

"It isn't, but Christ, you don't have to feel so shit because of it."

"You want to catch a movie or something?" he suddenly asks.

"God, what?" My voice is as blank as my expression is no doubt becoming. "Right now?"

"I...mean... Shit... Sorry. Forget I said anything." He starts rubbing his brow with his fingertips, his eyes squeezed closed, and please don't tell me this ridiculously handsome man is in agony over me.

"Well, I do want to see that Freddie Mercury flick. I suppose you can tag along." I flash him a light smile to put the poor guy out of his misery.

He smiles again, takes a breath, and glances down at the steering wheel. "Shit..." he murmurs, and I'm beginning to suspect he's wound up tighter than most kids raised in the hell that is the inner east.

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," I joke. "I'm just kind of surprised, I guess." To be honest, I'm more surprised than the first time he asked me.

"Why are you surprised?" He's curious again, and what the bloody hell is with that intense stare of his? It's more than a little intimidating.

"Because, School Captains at Sydney Grammar do not ask out the Year 10 Dux, darling." I can't believe he's making me explain.

That smile, crooked and more to himself, before he exhales past it. "I no longer go to Sydney Grammar."

This is true, of course, but it does not explain why I am still so hung up on it. Maybe he was never the school stud or playboy everyone believed he was. Yeah, right. And maybe my parents married for love. It also does not explain why I just accepted his invitation.

Christ, my mother would be rolling in her grave.

How can a handsome face make a person so easily discard their convictions? Is it some kind of recessive gene that affects only the female species? It would explain my mother. And Leah Clearwater. And me.

"What is it...?" he asks, looking troubled after I'd inadvertently lost myself in my thoughts and failed to respond to him.

"Nothing. When do you want to go?" I snap myself out of it.

"When are you free?"

"I have to go to my Boss's wedding tomorrow. His _third_ wedding. It's somewhere far south in the sticks," I ramble, which only seems to increase the width of his smile.

"Then...next week?"

"Okay," I say simply, then zipping open my bag I grab my phone, unlock it, and hand it to him. "Here you go."

This surprises him and he hesitates again. I wonder if he thinks I'm messing with him. "I'm sorry...?"

"Put your number in my contacts."

"Oh...um, how do I work this? I have an iPhone."

I scoff to myself, because he's way too bloody gorgeous to be this dense. "No one's perfect, darling."

Taking my phone, I open my contacts before placing it back in his hands.

"Ah, okay..." he murmurs. He uses two hands to type, I note. It's kind of endearing because it's not like he needs to. His fingers are long and his hands are ridiculously smooth; the hands of a privileged rich boy.

After he hands my phone back, I open his number in messages and send him a personalised waving emoji. His phone—that he has wedged between his legs on the seat—lights up and buzzes. After picking it up, he opens it and immediately grins.

"That's cute," he observes.

"Here, I'll make one of you." Grabbing his shirt by the sleeve, I attempt to drag him closer to me when he quite literally tenses.

"Umm...B-Bella, what..." he stutters as his eyes suddenly flood with uncertainty again. Bloody hell, in a matter of seconds he went from Mr Intense Eyes, to stammering awkwardness. Though, I do kind of remember him acting similar in high school.

"Christ, will you relax? I'm just taking a picture." I tug him closer, which isn't easy considering his body is suddenly locked up, and raising my phone I snap his photo.

I glance down at it and almost laugh. He looks freaked, and while I'm busy personalising his emoji, he utters out an awkward apology.

"Why are you sorry?" I enquire, before I show him the finished result in GIF form. "See?"

He kind of scoffs out a laugh and visibly relaxes. I had no idea he was so uptight.

"You don't need to look so worried. I mean, considering _I'm so short, darling_ ," I imitate Rosalie again, and he breaks into a reluctant smile, but he's obviously still on edge. I'm not sure why.

Maybe Sydney Grammar's School Captain of '08 has his own rich boy skeletons in the closet.

Well, that wouldn't be unheard of.

* * *

* **Hi! Kimmie45 here, Lyndal's beta. She goes and posts a new story after The Fallen, but doesn't just upload 1 chapter, she uploads 7 in a matter of days! I'm finally caught up in editing 1-7, so this one is edited, and hopefully I can keep up with the wild woman. I'm so happy you're reading her new story. It's a lot different than The Fallen, but will be just as awesome. I'm looking forward to this one. I can't wait til E and B hash out their personal issues. Thanks for reading and drop a review.**

 **To Sammy Hale, I miss you lady! Oh and congratulations!**

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey! I'm just stopping by to drop this chapter off before I crash. Back to Edward. I'm a few chapters ahead now, so I'll post chapter 10 in a few days.**  
 **Kimmie 45 beta's this fic, and she's left a note at the bottom - to explain how I'm a bogan ;) She takes time out of her busy life to help me, and I bloody love her.**

 **Anywho...happy reading. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 9.**

 **Edward.**

Bella's surprisingly down to earth, but maybe a little too much. I'm beginning to get the impression it's all an act. And her eyes... Christ... While she puts on an overall impression of indifference, her eyes tell a different story.

This girl's in pain, and a lot of it.

Of course, she'd be. Maybe after ten years I expected her to be over it. It's a bullshit thing to think, though. How the hell does anyone get over losing their entire family?

I know how gutted I felt after Pop died. I couldn't imagine if it was Emmett, as well; or even Jake. My mother? I'd celebrate that bitch's demise, and one day I will.

She's easy to talk to—really easy, but still, I'm rusty and out of my comfort zone. It's been too long since I've had a girlfriend, and I'm slipping back into old habits. My first instinct was always to turn to stone when they laid their hands on me. It took four bloody years to overcome it, and here I am back at the beginning.

She reacted to me strangely, which is completely normal, and I tried to cover it but she wasn't convinced. She gazed at me often, almost appearing to scrutinise me, but her perception is way off. She believed those rumours about me in high school, after all.

She still believes them.

I almost told her that Lauren Mallory was the only girl I'd had sex with at the time, but I didn't. That would have been too much information too soon, and I feared her reaction. I got the impression she might have laughed. In disbelief.

Eventually, Jake comes looking for me, knocking his knuckles on the window with a sly grin on his face.

Bella slides it down.

"What are you two doing?" His voice is typically suggestive.

"Bella had an asthma attack," I answer, narrowing my eyes in deliberate warning. It doesn't take a lot of alcohol to revert Jake back to his high school bullshit, and he could easily make a dick out of me.

"I'm fine!" Bella assures him when his gaze shifts to her.

Jake nods before pushing his hands into his pants pockets. "Okay, well, we're going to head home. You coming?"

For fuck's sake... he's bringing his girlfriend with him.

I sigh, reaching up to claw at my forehead in frustration. "Yeah..."

"Righto." He bends down, looking through the open window to properly see Bella. "See ya, Bella.

"Bye." Her tone again is casual.

I wait for Jake to bugger off back inside the building before I turn to her. "Have fun at the wedding tomorrow"—her brow immediately quirks—"and I'll call you soon."

"Okay," she says simply, before moving naturally towards me to anticipate me; I do the same.

I'm fine with social interactions—even physical ones. It's expected, and I've been raised my entire life to behave a certain way. Though, as my lips graze against the softness of her cheek, I feel myself tense, as well as get hard.

"Would it be rude of me if I didn't say goodbye to Leah?" she puts to me shrewdly after we part.

I almost laugh. "No, I'll tell her tonight you weren't feeling well."

"God, thank you," she replies, obviously relieved. "Though she had some bloody nerve scoffing at my box of Favourites when she served us ten dollar cask wine!"

I do laugh this time. "See ya, Bella."

"Hey?" she speaks up just as I move to grab the door handle.

I turn back to her and raise my eyebrows in question.

"Where do you live?"

"Neutral Bay."

She scoffs ironically. "God, of course you do. We practically live on top of each other."

She has a definite aversion for anything wealth-related, but at the same time, she knows I _get it_.

I only grin, pushing it quickly beneath my breath. "Bye."

"See you at the cinema, _darling_ ," she does that imitation again. Then exiting the car with me, she makes her way to the driver's side.

I head towards my car lifting, my hand to wave goodbye. I don't turn back to her; I can't. I'd be giving too much away.

 **. . .**

"Did you at least get a blow job?" Jake puts to me later that night after coming into my half of the house to watch the cricket reruns with me.

I almost choke on my beer. " _What_? Christ—of course not!"

He drops down next to me on the lounge, a beer in hand. "See, mate, that's the opposite reaction to what you're meant to have."

"Well, we can't all be as lucky as you," I say dryly. "Where's what's-her-face anyway? Gone home, I hope. "

"Nah, she crashed." He takes a gulp of his beer. "I think I might have to break up with her," he admits after a moment.

I snort. "Colour me shocked."

"You're a smart arse, you know that?" He elbows me. "But it's for you."

I glance at him, raising a suspicious brow. "How so?"

It's not the first time he's used me as an excuse to break up with his women. The last one he had, he told her she looked too similar to my ex-girlfriend and it was traumatising me. Arsehole.

"She said some pretty shitty crap about library girl." He shrugs and swallows another mouthful of beer, while I'm instantly on edge.

"What did she say?"

"It's not important."

"Of course it's fucking important!" I snap.

"Okay, mate. Christ—calm down. She said something about how Bella was poor and she got her Crows Nest house by fucking her boss."

I turn and stare at his fucking audacity for a moment. "And you still brought her back to my house and fucked her?"

He smirks. "Well, yeah..."

I huff through my nose. "Tell her to grab her shit and get the fuck out—before I do!"

He groans like he thinks I'm overreacting. "Look, mate, I know you have this weird attachment to Bella and everything, but what if it's true?"

I scoff sarcastically, immediately dismissing it. "And this coming from Miss-fucking-Gold-Digger 2.0 downstairs?" I point my finger toward his half of the house.

He takes another gulp of his beer and smirks again to himself, but then not even he can deny what type of woman she is. "That's a bit rough. All I'm saying is, Bella's been through a lot of crap in her life. No one would fault her if it were true."

"You really think it's true?" I put to him; I'm not buying it.

He half shrugs. "Probably not."

"So why take the fucking word of West Coast Cooler girl, at all then?"

He glances at me and snorts. "Christ, you're a snob."

"Snob my arse. You've just got a hard on for white trash!"

"Jesus, why are you getting so bent out of shape for?" he demands.

I turn back to the TV, taking an angry gulp of my beer, but don't say anything.

"Bloody hell, don't tell me you're in love with her already?" he blurts, and he sounds horrified by it.

I turn and shove him. "Can you _not_ trivialise every-damn-thing about me?"

He laughs pointing his finger at me with the same hand that's gripping the beer bottle. "You bloody are! _Shit_ , mate!"

"Yeah, glad I amuse you," I mutter, slamming my empty beer bottle on the coffee table before pulling myself to my feet. "I'm going to bed. Make sure root-of-the-week is gone by morning."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Hey, mate, come back. I'm only joking!" he calls after me, continuing to laugh like the arsehole he's good at being.

I only hold my middle finger up, but continue walking.

I have a shower, and am just getting out when my phone rings. I manage to pick it up just before it's redirected to my voice mail, one hand clamped to the towel around my waist, and almost slipping and breaking my neck on the puddle of water I leave behind me.

It's Bella.

"Hey, _darling_."

"Hey—Bella." My voice automatically softens.

"Something's bothering me, and I can't sleep without knowing."

"Okay..."

"Why did Leah refer to you as Jake's cousin?"

"Oh," I half chuckle. "I turned up looking like a _dero_ when we first met on Thursday, so Jake, getting back at me, told her I was his cousin from Campbelltown."

She immediately breaks into laughter. "Christ, that's hilarious!"

"Yeah..." I murmur. "So, are you on Facebook... or anything?" I ask after her laughter dies down.

"I am," she says simply. "Want to be friends, do you?

Jesus, she's blunt. I'm really not sure how to take her half the time. "Erm... sure."

"Hang on a sec..." She goes quiet for half a minute or so, the reception becoming muffled, before she returns. "Okay, I sent you a request. Oh, I'm Bella Dwyer now. Is that what you meant?"

"Erm..."

"It's my mother's maiden name," she quickly elaborates. "I dropped my bastard old man's name as soon as I could." The tone of her voice suddenly darkens.

"Umm..."

"Did you try and find me?"

Christ...

"Yeah," I reply with so much uncertainty it's practically a question. "Hang on a sec, let me accept."

Putting my phone on speaker, I open Facebook and click on the single notification waiting for me before confirming. Her profile photo is of a poodle.

"Okay," I let her know I'm done.

"God, Rosalie Hale just sent me a friend request. That was bloody quick. She must hang around waiting for mutual friends to show up on her sidebar." She snorts. "Should I accept?"

"If you enjoy seeing fifty Snapchat selfies from her daily," I say dryly.

"Why does that not surprise me? Okay, I have to suss this out."

The reception turns to static for a few moments when she suddenly exclaims, "Oh my god!"

"What...?"

"Christ, you weren't bloody kidding, Edward."

It's the first time she's spoken my name. I like it.

I laugh softly.

"Okay, no, bugger that... _God_ , she's up herself."

"She always was."

"What are you doing for Christmas?" she suddenly changes course.

"Hmm...I 'm not sure yet. What are you doing?" I ask, when I almost groan out loud. What a stupid fucking thing to say.

"I usually get a lot of pity invites," she says lightly.

"Oh... shit... I'm sorry."

"God, _why_?"

"It was insensitive..." I mumble.

"The pity invites, you mean?"

"No, me asking... I mean... Never mind."

"Christ, darling, you seriously need to lighten up." That North Shore accent again, and I laugh.

"You have a great attitude, Bella."

"Is that the reason you asked me out?"

"Yeah..." I'm pretty sure I just fell for a trick question.

She scoffs, turning the reception static again. "You did not."

Yeah, I fell for it.

"Okay... I didn't," I concede. "I asked you out because I thought you were easily the prettiest girl in the school."

"God..." she murmurs, going quiet for a few seconds. "That's a hell of a one-liner."

"Jesus..." I utter in good humour, and she laughs. I like her laugh; it's light and it comes naturally to her.

"Do me a favour?"

"Okay..." I ask with uncertainty.

"Can you ring me tomorrow?" I open my mouth to agree when she quickly adds, "My boss's intern is going to be there, and he keeps cracking onto me. I hate to think what he'll be like after a few beers. He's a real dickhead and a total wanker. Anyway, I've told him I have a boyfriend, but so far he's calling my bluff."

"Erm... okay."

"I also might have told him my boyfriend's name is Jeff, so if I call you Jeff, don't get confused and hang up or anything, okay?"

I laugh again. "No worries. What time do you want me to call?"

"I'll send you a signal first, okay?"

"Okay, but... won't he wonder why you're dateless?"

"I've covered that already—don't worry!"

My laugh this time is open.

"One more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you carry an inhaler in your car?"

"Oh... it's because of work. I coach a lot of sport and I'm required to carry a first aid kit with me. A few of the kids on the swim team are asthmatic, so I keep a few in there."

"Ahhh. Well, that makes sense. Here I was thinking you could see into the future." She laughs again, and I very nearly join her. Her laughter is contagious.

"No, not that fortunate."

She suddenly releases a heavy breath. "Alright, I 'spose I should go to sleep. My boss is sending the secretarial staff in a limo tomorrow at eight am. Are passengers allowed to sit in the front seat?" she asks, and there's something about her tone that suggests she's more worried about it than she wants to appear.

"Erm... I'm not sure. It should be okay, I guess."

Shit! She doesn't like to be in the back seat. All of a sudden I get it, and I open my mouth to offer to drive her tomorrow, when with a quick "See you, darling" she hangs up.

 **. . .**

By the time I get up the next morning the house is quiet. Jake goes to the gym every Saturday, so I assume that's where he is, and before I can relax, I head down to the ground floor and check his bedroom—to make sure _that woman_ is gone. She is.

After breakfast I go for a run, and when I'm back home so is Jake.

"Hey, mate, want to go to the pub tonight?" he asks. He's sitting at the dining table with half a box of Fruit Loops crammed into a cereal bowl. Because that's what Jake does after hitting the gym, he eats sugar.

"No," I say flatly, heading to the fridge to grab an energy drink.

"You're not still stroppy about last night, are you? I dumped Leah. She chucked a fit and kneed me in the balls." He smirks to himself, snorting it beneath his breath.

"Good," is all I say, sculling down the Gatorade.

"Plus, she had a tramp stamp. Want to know what it said?"

"Not really," I say dryly.

" _Robbo_ ," he tells me anyway.

I snort back my drink through my nose. "Well, what did you expect?"

"Not sure," he shrugs, continuing to shovel Fruit Loops into his mouth as milk spills down his chin.

"For fuck sake, you're a pig."

He only grins to himself, but doesn't reply.

"Hey, mate, if that's what you're into... I don't get it, though," I add, tossing the empty Gatorade bottle into the bin on the way out of the kitchen.

"Hey, you want to know why I'm into them?" he hollers from behind me. "Because by the time I turn forty I'll be forced to marry a bloody Rosalie Hale, and I'll be fucking miserable!"

Yeah, he has a point, there.

Just after five pm, Bella texts me: **Now, Darling.**

I hit 'call' with the grin rapidly spreading across my face.

"Jeffrey, _darling_ ," she exclaims loudly, and by the sounds of it she's well on her way to being drunk. "I'm on speaker phone," her voice drops to an almost indecipherable murmur, "so let's ham it up."

"How are you, baby?" Okay, that sounded fake as shit.

"I'm fine, but I miss your handsome face—so much!" Yeah, she's pissed.

"Miss you too, beautiful." Christ, this is getting worse.

"Awww... you're so sweeeeeeet." She's slurring.

"How much have you had to drink?" I ask, frowning and forgetting our charade for the moment.

"Probably too much." She hiccups.

"Okay, well no driving."

"It's fiiiiine. I got all my car accidents up front at once, remember?"

Jesus... How can she bloody joke about it all the time? I really don't get it, but then I suppose I wouldn't.

"I'm all frocked up, darling. Want me to send a photo?" she quickly adds.

"Sure."

"'Kay, hang on a sec—Bloody hell, I'm shit at taking selfies. I need long fingers like you." The tone of her voice drops and becomes almost suggestive.

"Erm..."

"Okay, sent. Let me know what you think, okay?"

"Okay."

"Are you sussing it out?"

"Now?"

"Of course now!"

"Alright, hang on a minute." After opening my messages, I click on the thumbnail of Bella's photo, and... fuck...

"Do you like it?"

"I like it," I murmur, smiling to myself, because it's bloody hot. Her dress is navy blue, thin strapped, and shows a little too much of her cleavage, but Christ...

"I knew you would. Send me one of you, okay? Alice wants to suss you out."

"Right now?" I have no idea who Alice is.

"Yeees. Right now."

"Erm, you sure? I've just had a shower..."

"Well, even better..." Her voice brightens.

"Okay, give me a sec." I snap a quick picture of myself, making sure not to get too much of my bare chest in the photo before sending it. "You got it?"

"Mmm... hang on..." There's silence for a moment before a voice that isn't hers exclaims. "He's a spunk!"

"Bella...?

"Yes?"

"You like it?"

"Of course, I like it," she answers without any of that pretentious mockery of hers. "You're bloody gorgeous."

* * *

 ***Hi! Kimmie45 (Kim) here. Just wanted to make a note to explain that while it may seem Lyndal is using darling a lot, it's intentional. Edward just stated its her pretentious mockery of the richy rich and how they act and live. Using Okay or Ok a lot here is also intentional, because neither Bella or Edward speak in a formal tone; like The Fallen Edward. Lastly, if you knew Lyndal and have talked to her on FB, you'll see a lot of Bella. Lol. She uses the same phrases as Bella does. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 ***Pissed on its own means drunk. Pissed off...well you now what that means.**

 ***Robbo - Robert.**

 ***Suss - Can mean suspicious, or have a look-see.**

* * *

 **A/N: let me know how you liked/disliked and I'll see you in a few days with Bella's chapter.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Chapter 10 as promised.  
**

 **Thanks to Kimmie45 for getting this back to me lickety-split. She's gorge.  
**

 **I figured explanations for bogan-speak would probably be better before the chapter. So, please read the following first:**

 ***Opal card – a public transport card you scan to use. Pay-as-you-go has been done away with.**

 ***Do the Harry – one of our Prime Minister's, Harold (Harry) Holt, went swimming back in the 60s and disappeared. It spawned the term "Do the Harry" aka to disappear.**

 **Happy reading.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 10**

 **Bella.**

He arrives twenty minutes early. I'm half way through doing my hair when Oppa starts kicking off announcing his arrival.

After shooing my mental case dog away, I open the door and pause for a moment hoping my expression isn't as vacant as I suspect it is.

Christ! Could this guy get any better looking? It seems like some kind of injustice when you take into account the amount of daggy-looking blokes in the world.

I always thought Year 12 Edward had a really nice hair colour, like dark Manuka honey, and his eyes that were sometimes blue and sometimes green depending on the cloud cover. I knew he was handsome, but there were several handsome boys at the time. They kind of all blended together.

But not even I can deny his level of sex appeal now. I'm sure it has to be some kind of cruel joke.

"Hey," I say, masking my intimidation with a smile and rising on my toes to meet his greeting.

"Hey, Bella," he replies in his whiskey-smooth voice, before his lips connect gently to my cheek.

He smells just as bloody alluring.

One thing you can't fault about rich guys is that they love their cologne, and Edward appears to be no exception. If I had to guess, he's wearing Aramis.

"You smell nice and woody," I note lightly, grabbing the sleeve of his collared shirt to pull him inside the house.

He looks suddenly aghast. "I-I'm sorry?"

I stare back at him for a few seconds wondering what's got him in such a tizz when I realise.

"Your _cologne, darling_ ," I tease him, and he cracks a smile and relaxes somewhat.

"Oh, yeah..." he mumbles, and I'm beginning to suspect this guy is multi-faceted. Intense eyes and awkwardness only scratching the surface.

Oppa starts barking, his head poking around from the kitchen, because while he's obviously scared of Edward, I know he secretly wants to impress him with his guard dog abilities. Like most small dogs he thinks he's a Pitbull.

"Oppa! Stop it!" I stomp my foot, and he skulks off out of view. "Don't mind him. He's a total wuss."

"Oppa..." Edward echoes, his head tilting as he obviously wonders about my dog's name.

"It's Korean for 'big brother'," I clarify. "Christ, I know," I respond to his raised brow. "It wasn't well thought out. I'm always explaining it. Think it's too late to change it?"

He breaks into a grin, pushing it through his nose as if he was going to laugh but stopped himself at the last minute. "Why'd you give him a Korean name?" he enquires.

"I did Korean in high school, remember?"

"Erm...no..." He looks like he's reluctant to admit it.

"Of course you don't." I wave my hand, feeling like an idiot for expecting him to before pulling him further into the house. He's going tense again. "Give me a few more minutes, okay?"

"No worries," he replies, his voice lowering before he shoves both fists into the front pockets of his pants.

My hands are shaking, which is bloody ridiculous. I never had this reaction to him when I was a kid. I guess ten years without my father has left me vulnerable to the opposite sex. It was easier to remain detached when I could so easily draw comparisons of them with my old man. One trait with my father was enough to turn me off, and Edward had several.

At least, I though he did.

When I reemerge again from the bathroom, my hair-do only moderately satisfactory, Edward's standing in the same spot I left him—in the hall—quite obviously sussing out the place.

"Do you like my house?" I ask him, taking him off guard as he practically jumps in his skin.

"Yeah, it's great," he mumbles as heat floods up his neck.

"It's pretty small, but enough for me and Oppa."

"I like it." He feels the need to assure me before adding, "My house is too big."

Well, that doesn't surprise me.

"Surely not, darling," I tease him again, stepping into the kitchen to grab my keys and inhaler before turning back to him; he didn't follow me. "Ready to go?"

"Sure."

I follow him out the front door, locking it behind me. His midnight blue Audi is sitting in the carport next to my now Vinnie-looking Nissan. He pulls his car keys from his pocket when I reach out, grab his hand, and pull him to a stop.

He tenses for the second time before looking back at me.

"Let me just state the ground rules first, okay?"

"...Ground rules...?" he repeats blankly, and he looks suddenly dubious.

"Yes, ground rules. The first, no sympathy, and what I mean by that is, please don't feel the need to tip-toe around me. It's completely fine to mention parents and brothers. Believe me, I won't fall apart, and nothing bums out an evening more than one-hundred-and-forty-five awkward breaks in conversation."

He smiles again, it's charming this time and maybe a little seeped in pity, but I let it go. "Okay. What's the second?"

"Second, what?"

"The second rule." He looks uncomfortable again.

"Oh." I suddenly realise. "No, that's all."

Cue uncomfortable smile. Christ...

He opens the door for me, then slides into the driver's side looking like he's 007. He turns giving me an odd look, but deciding I don't want to analyse it, I only smile at him. He blushes, which is really bloody ridiculously adorable, before starting the engine and reversing out.

By the direction he's driving, he's not headed over the bridge, but for Neutral Bay wharf.

"You don't mind catching the ferry, do you?" he asks.

"Of course I don't." I know how shit it is to find parking in the city. "Whereabouts is your house?" I ask.

"Erm...Kurraba Road." Without removing his hand from the steering wheel, he points in some random direction looking suddenly embarrassed.

"Does it have harbour views, _darling_?"

It brings the smile back to his face letting me know how to put him at ease when he turns broody, which I suspect is going to be often.

"Partial." Is his reply.

"Well, it's better than mine. On a good day, you can just see the bridge through the trees. I'm coming to your house for New Year's."

His smile broadens, and he turns his head to set his intense gaze on mine. "Sure."

He parks his car along the street that leads to the wharf, we exit and head down.

Neutral Bay is ridiculously quaint; its architecture steeped in history. Most of the houses are federation-style, with gables and bay windows, and divided from the roads by containment walls and bridges built by convicts.

Edward would fit in well.

We pass a strip of shops; a café, general store, and post office, before heading onto the wharf. Edward is quiet, his hands shoved in his pockets again, and looking like he's already regretting his decision to ask me out.

I'd like to say he's just a reflective person, but I can't honestly say anymore. Unless of course he's just matured, but that can't be right. Guys from his social standing tend to become more obnoxious with age.

I begin to contemplate what manner of trauma has led to this shift in personality in him. He was a lot more relaxed in high school, after all.

Mother issues is usually the best bet. Being raised by nannies tends to turn well-functioning human beings into total neurotics at some point. Though, he's not completely neurotic. Maybe just a tad.

When we reach the barrier gates, I pull my Opal card from my purse and pass through. Edward is right behind me.

There's several people waiting for the ferry. Most of them teenagers, and there's a group of girls who quiet evidently know Edward.

They start to giggle before one, braver than the rest, calls Edward to her attention. "Hi, Mr. Cullen."

She turns beet red, her lashes practically fluttering, while I'm forced to pull out all stops to keep the snort beneath my breath.

"Hi," Edward murmurs, looking suddenly sheepish and uncomfortable.

"Uh-oh, you're in _serious_ trouble, _Mr. Cullen_ ," I lean closer to him and murmur in his ear.

Despite the slight smile that edges at his lips, he flushes and promptly tenses. Clearing his throat softly, he sits himself down at the bench. I sit next to him wondering whether he has Mysophobia.

Five minutes later, the ferry arrives taking us across the harbour to Circular Quay.

"Feel like Italian?" Edward asks after we pass the peak-hour crowds onto George Street. And now that the teenage girls are out of sight, he's considerably more at ease.

"Sure," I say simply.

He's made reservations at _Fratelli Fresh_ on Bridge Street. It's a basement restaurant with an open kitchen.

Edward orders beef Ravioli, and I order Alfredo fettuccine.

I take the opportunity to attempt to crack him, knowing he can't run out on me mid-dinner.

"So, what's the story, darling?" I only half tease him.

"I'm sorry?" he enquires, a fork full of ravioli paused mid-air.

"Why are you so _uptight_?"

"Oh," he blushes as if he knows exactly what I'm getting at. "Shit...sorry..."

"God... _why_?"

"I'm..." He glances away from me as if looking for the fire escape. "I'm just...not good with this type of thing..."

"This type of thing?" I repeat, twirling the pasta around my fork. "You mean eating dinner with girls you knew in high school."

"Eating dinner with girls in general," he clarifies, and there's a sharp element of frustration in his tone. He drops his fork to his plate and expels a heavy breath. "Shit...I'm sorry."

"Has anyone ever told you you apologise _way_ too much?"

He gazes at me for a few seconds before he breaks into another one of those reluctant smiles of his, like he's in a state of permanent frustration. "I know..."

"Seriously, you don't have to be sorry around me." I attempt to put him at ease.

His smile turns inward this time, and he's ridiculously adorable when he's turning into a basket case of insecurity. I mean, he's so good at it I should be cynical, but I'm not.

"Do you have Mysophobia?" I decide to just come out and ask.

He gazes at me in confusion for a moment. "I...I don't know what that is."

"Germ-phobe."

He releases his breath, and I wonder what he thought I meant. Maybe it's best not to ask.

"No."

"You don't like to be touched?" I probe further, and I'm clearly making him uncomfortable. This is probably not the best course for conversation on the first date. "Christ...never mind."

"I'm...not exactly comfortable with it," he finally admits. His eyes are steeled to his meal, and I feel like a right bitch.

"Bloody hell...I'm sorry, Edward."

He glances up and sort of shrugs, and his smile this time is really bloody pulling on my heart strings. "Don't worry about it."

Almost on impulse, I reach out, completely forgetting myself, and grab his hand. The poor man jerks in his seat, and I withdraw hastily.

"Christ, what's wrong with me!"

He laughs shortly and really uncomfortably. "That time you just surprised me."

"It's just...Edward, I'm a... _grabber_ "—that did not come out like I hoped—"I don't even realise I'm doing it half the time."

"It's fine..." He's not looking at me, and I want to reach out and cup my hand to his face, but I obviously can't. "Maybe it can be another ground rule."

"Don't touch you?"

He laughs, as if he wants to relax but he's so wound up he can't. "You can touch me, just...warn me before you do."

"Have you always been like this?" I ask delicately. Bloody hell, I want to hug him, and he needs a whole lot of _something else_ too, but that's obviously out of the question.

"Erm...no. I mean, it's always made me uncomfortable, but it only got worse as I got older. A lot worse..." he murmurs the last line practically to himself.

I open my mouth, but shut it again, because I'm lost for words, and that's not something that usually happens to me. I'm suddenly flooding with shame, that I had this poor man pegged as something he clearly isn't. Because if he can barely stand to be touched, then he wasn't lying about Jessica Stanley's rumours being bullshit.

Christ...

"I'm sorry, Edward," I speak up in a timid voice, and I can't bring myself to meet his eyes.

"Why?" He sounds generally curious.

"I believed what was being said about you."

He smirks, as if it pisses him off and amuses him at the same time. "It was ten years ago, Bella."

"Still...it was really shit of me."

He releases a weary-sounding breath. "It's okay, really..."

But it isn't, and the rest of dinner is so awkward it's genuinely uncomfortable. I feel like a right cow, and Edward looks like he wants to do the Harry. I can't blame him. I'd want to chuck the towel in too.

After dinner, we head to Hoyts Cinema with the awkward tension between us becoming suffocating.

"Hey, listen," he breaks the silence, his voice surprisingly even. "It's not as bad as it sounds, Bella. I'm not defective. I've had normal relationships before," he attempts to explain, and there's a pleading in his eyes as if he really wants me to believe him.

I nod; I have no words. I really want to touch him, and it's an impulse I have to force myself to restrain.

"Shit...this is awkward..." he mutters to himself.

I take a breath and hum softly in agreement, because it bloody is.

"Bella..." He comes to a stop a block from the cinema and turns to me. I glance up at him. "We can call it a night now, if you want?" He looks defeated, and Christ, do I ever want to hug him.

"Do you want to?"

He scoffs again; he does that a lot when he's frustrated I note. "No..."

"Then, what makes you think I do?"

He smiles, his shoulders relaxing a bit, before he offers his hand. "Want to hold my hand?"

I smile with him, secretly relieved as well, and take his hand in mine. It's clammy as all hell, but I overlook it. "You are ridiculously adorable."

"You are ridiculously blunt," he reciprocates, his tone turning rustically smooth again. I take it as a good sign he's beginning to lighten up.

Memories have a habit of hitting you at really impractical times. For example, it's right smack bang in the middle of Bohemian Rhapsody when I suddenly recall Edward telling me he had a narcissistic mother when I was sixteen. At the time, he was trying to put me at ease over my domineering father, and I'd pretty much disregarded it, until now. Because right now, it all fits together—why he's so nervous around women. Even me, and I don't even consider myself a woman half the time.

Edward is not the playboy I mistook him for. He was just a handsome boy with his own demons who'd unfortunately caught the attention of the school's slut franchise.

A handsome boy who'd professed to like me, and I still don't get that one.

* * *

 **A/N: Let me know how you liked Bella's head. Not as many "darlings". The more she gets to know Edward, the less she'll feel the need to drive that point home.  
Happy Thanksgiving to all my Spankee Doodle lovelings across the pond *gobble gobble*  
MWAH xoxo**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks to Kimmie45 who's awesome and gorgeous and who gets these chapters back to me asap even with her busy schedule. And thank you to all those who've added me to your faves or left a review. I appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy.  
xoxo**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 11**

 **Edward.**

Tonight was shit!

I made a completely idiot of myself. In fact, I'm lucky I didn't completely fuck it up and send Bella bolting for the ferry before we even finished dinner.

I wanted to explain everything to her, but the more I did the bigger the hole I dug myself into.

It's not that I can't have women touch me, it's just... what the hell am I on about? I'm a fucking basket case, and because I'm so hung up on Bella it's only made it worse.

During the week between her Boss's wedding and tonight, we talked on the phone every night. While she's slightly crazy, and talks more than anyone I've ever known, she's really sweet at the same time that I thought... Well, I don't know what the Christ I thought, just that I fucked it up before it could go anywhere.

After dinner and into the movie she kept herself deliberately distanced from me. There were no more "darlings" or joking about our shit upbringing; she'd turned quiet and lost in her thoughts. Considering how talkative she is, it only made it more awkward, and it wasn't hard to imagine what was going through her mind, either. She was counting down the seconds until this crap date was over.

 **. . .**

We ride the ferry back to Neutral Bay and then to her place in silence, and by the time I pull up in front of her house I'm pissed off and frustrated at myself.

"Look, Bella," I speak up abruptly, turning to her. She's looking at me, her expression... Christ, I don't know what she's thinking. "I'm sorry..."

"God, Edward, no more apologising," she insists, moving her body to face me. "Since I have to ask first, do you want to make the first move, or should I?"

"I-I'm sorry...?"

She rolls her eyes deliberately. "For someone so gorgeous you are really clueless!"

"The first move...?" I'm suddenly terrified. Was does she want to do?

"Christ—you want to kiss me or not?"

"Oh... Yeah, I do..."

"So who's going to make the first move here? You or me?"

"Me."

"Okay..." She tilts her head, obviously waiting for me.

I only gaze at her for too long, watching as she quirks that brow at me the longer I hesitate. Snapping myself out of it, I lean towards her. My hands immediately turn to water and I'm getting a raging bloody hard on, when I pause as if I've hit a fucking brick wall. "Shit..."

"Why is it you can kiss my cheek, no problem, but you can't kiss my lips?" she asks in confusion, and she sounds almost serious.

"Kissing cheeks is impersonal."

"I can kiss you, if you like. I really don't mind," she offers.

"Erm... okay. Fuck it," I mutter that last part to myself.

She leans closer a fraction when she pauses again. "You sure?"

"I'm sure, just bloody do it." I'm frustrated, and this is really, incredibly mortifying.

"You really know how to get a girl in the mood, Edward," she teases me again.

"Shit... I'm sorry."

"Oh my god."

Despite myself, I break into a smile. She's good at lightening the mood, which I'm really grateful for. "Sorry for being sorry," I murmur, my eyes dropping to her lips. They're full and pouty. I want them on mine. I want them everywhere.

She half laughs. "God, you're so adorable it's killing me."

"I'm pretty sure that's something I'm supposed to tell you." I want to tell her she's beautiful, because she is, but I have no idea how she can just say what's on her mind at the drop of a hat.

"Are you stalling?" She quirks a dubious brow.

"How can I be stalling? You're making the first move."

"Well, stop _talking_. Okay... Christ, I don't want you to head butt me or anything, so should I go about this quick or slow?"

"Erm... You told me to stop talking..."

"Slow, then. One blink for yes, two for no."

I blink.

"Okay, ready?"

I nod, but Christ, I'm not sure what the hell I am. Really horny is a definite, but I might be shitting myself at the same time.

She closes the distance between us. Her hand makes contact with me first, sliding over my cheek, before she plants her lips to mine. Her mouth is slightly parted, and I feel the warmth of her breath against my lips, but she doesn't move, and no more than three seconds passes when she breaks apart.

Fuck... it was so good, but not even close to being enough.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Fuck, I'm a dickhead."

"You're not a dickhead. Dysfunctional? Yes. Dickhead, no."

"What have I got to be dysfunctional about?" I mumble bitterly. "I mean, compared to you—" When I meet her gaze, the words die on my lips. Her eyes are wide, and she looks like she might be pissed off.

"No breaking my rules!"

"I... shit. I'm so sorry..."

"Okay, I'm making another rule," she says, interjecting my neurotic bullshit.

"Okay...?"

"If you say 'sorry' around me, I'll grab you. Somewhere you'll least expect."

I only stare at her for a moment, wondering whether she's serious or messing with me.

"Christ. You wanna come in for coffee?"

Shit. I really bloody do, but I need a cold shower right now, not coffee.

"Sure." My voice is tight.

She releases her breath as if she's completely relieved as well as exasperated, but it's not that I can blame her. "Come on, then."

She turns toward the door and climbs out. I follow her, locking my car as I do.

When she reaches the front door the porch light comes on, and from the other side her dog starts yapping.

"Mummy's home, Oppa," she calls out, rummaging around in her handbag for her keys. After wrangling them out, she opens the door and I follow her inside.

Her house looks no bigger than a one bedroom, and it's old. At least the turn of the 20th century, but it's been renovated in keeping with the architecture. It opens onto a hall, and to the right is the lounge room with a fireplace and bay window. Adjacent to the lounge is what I assume is a formal dining, but she uses it as a study; there's a desk with a laptop, as well as a million books stacked all over the place. The hall leads to a kitchen and meals area, and opposite the lounge room I can only assume is the bedroom and bathroom.

After flicking on several lights she greets her dog, and the small brown poodle goes ape-shit for her. He sniffs me cautiously, and deciding he doesn't like me, he starts growling.

"Oh, seriously, Oppa?" She doesn't talk to him like he's a dog. "Pay no attention, Edward. He's a complete sook." She says over her shoulder, heading for the kitchen; I trail behind her.

"You still like to read," I point out as we pass her study. There's a sort of organised mess to her house. It's untidy, but clean in a really dysfunctional way; exactly how she'd described me.

"God, yes." Her voice is impassioned. "It's a great way to escape when you have a shit life."

She makes a lot of hidden references to what had happened to her, but again she's too completely cavalier about it. This girl puts on a good show.

"I've read six books in my entire life," I admit, stepping down into the kitchen behind her. "All forced on me for English at school."

She chuckles softly, and heading to the counter, she turns on the kettle. "Take a seat." She motions to the dining table.

I sit myself in a chair closest to her.

"Hey... Bella..." I mumble, because it's still uncomfortable. For me, anyway.

She turns around, her eyebrows raising.

"I'm really sorry... about how awkward I made things tonight."

"You're honestly going to apologise again—despite my warning?" She's teasing me again, and she's really bloody good at making light of a situation.

I break into a small smile. "You went really quiet. I felt like shit."

"I was just giving you some time," say says simply with a shrug before turning her back on me again. "You know what I think, Edward?" she asks behind her refrigerator door, surfacing again holding a carton of milk.

"What...?"

"I think you just have to get desensitised," she answers, and there's a lot more to that statement than she's alluding to.

I smile to myself, breaking her gaze. She takes honesty to a new art form. "Probably."

"God, you weren't nearly this uptight last week in my car. You were actually kind of charming," she says, stretching on her toes to open a cupboard above the stove and pulling out two mugs.

"We weren't on a date last week," I admit in a quiet voice. She's so honest that I feel like I have to be as well; no matter how much of a fuckwit I'll end up looking.

"Is that what got you so spooked?" She turns to me and arches a brow again before opening the pantry door.

"Erm... yeah, I guess. It's been a while."

"Okay, well, in the future just pretend we're hiding from Leah Clearwater," she suggests lightly, coffee and sugar in her hands.

I grin too broadly, and almost laugh. "Okay."

"Now, how do you take your _latte, darling_?"

"Milk, one sugar."

After pouring the coffee, she stirs the two mugs loudly and tosses the spoon in the sink. Then picking up both, she passes me and heads back into the entry hall. "Follow me."

Pulling myself out of the chair, I trail behind her, stiffer than a flag pole, into the lounge room.

After placing the two mugs down on the coffee table, she sits herself on the lounge and curls her legs beneath her. "Well, come on, handsome." She whacks the seat beside her, but the overall impression she's giving off is casual, and nothing more. Though, I'm really not sure. She's a hard one to work out, and I'm suddenly nervous as fuck.

Clearing my throat softly, I sit beside her, and lean forward to pick up the coffee she placed closest to me.

She observes me for a moment, her head slightly tilted again. "Do I have permission to touch you?—Christ, are we going to need a contract like that bondage flick, _Fifty Shades of Grey_?"

"Like what movie?" I ask, confused.

"God, you haven't heard of it?"

"Erm... no. Should I have?"

"I suppose it's more of a lonely housewife's novel than one for hot young guys." She shrugs. "Give me your hand."

"What? Why?"

She rolls her eyes. "Christ, Edward, do you want me to desensitise you, or what?"

I swallow thickly, my entire body immediately tensing. "How... do you plan on doing that?"

"How would you like me to?"

"Jesus..."

"Okay, Mr. Tension, this is driving me mental. Just give me your hand." Without waiting for me to answer, she takes the mug from my grip, and places it on the coffee table. When she turns back, she takes my left hand in both of hers. She runs her thumbs over it, turning it over and back again, before tracing the tips of her fingers along the lines of my palm. "This isn't making you nervous?"

"No." I clear my throat again, completely contradicting me, and she smirks slightly to herself.

"You're a really shit liar."

"How old are you, Bella?" I ask, no bloody idea why.

She flashes me a funny look. "Christ, did I lose my memory, or did you?"

"Bella..." I murmur. This indifference she has to what happened to her is insanely fucked up.

"Have you forgotten my rules?" She's not really serious. "And think very carefully before you apologise."

"Okay..." I concede with a small smile, but Christ, she's so at ease it's hard to withstand. It's actually pretty bloody hot.

"I'm twenty six," she answers, leaning closer, my hand still caught between hers. "Now, tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable."

"You're not making me uncomfortable," I reply, my voice restricting regardless.

"You really are too bloody gorgeous to be this unsure of yourself." She releases one of her hands and runs the tips of her index finger over my jaw.

"That's because you're really too bloody blunt," I reply, attempting to imitate her in an effort to distract myself.

"I'm not blunt, I'm honest. There's a difference. Christ, you smell good."

"Uh... so do you..." My entire body is tense and straining, and I'm two fucking seconds from coming in my pants.

She scoffs a laugh softly through her nose, and moves even closer.

"What did your mother do to you? Her voice drops to a near whisper, and she's so close to me that her breath washes over my face.

"She fucked me over," I reply, my voice dropping to an unintentional whisper. "Bella..."

She shakes her head slightly, and places a finger to my lips. After a short moment she removes it and kisses me. It's only brief when she pulls back before she places her hand on my thigh and leans into me. "Tell me what she did to you, Edward," she speaks softly, her voice slightly wavering. "And I don't want you to feel like you have to compare it to what happened to me."

I shake my head. I don't want her to stop what she's doing, but this is not something I can do.

"Bella..." She kisses me again, only this time it's longer and deeper, but at the same time, she's being too careful with me.

"You just need to replace it with another memory," she murmurs against my ear before she again takes my lips with hers.

I close my eyes, focusing only on her mouth that connects with mine, on her closeness, and the warmth of her body heat. "My... my... mother..."

"Keep going." She places her hands to my face, pushing them into my hair, as her lips move to my jaw, my neck...

"She... got... she got Emmett..."

Slowly, she slides her palm down my neck and over my shoulders, where she grabs a fistful of my shirt and tugs me closer to her. And this time when she kisses me, I'm not sure it's going to end, but Jesus, I don't want it to.

She presses herself further against me, and I angle my body to fully face her and lean into to her, but it's uncomfortable. She's a lot smaller than I am, and I'm getting a crick in my neck. It's cock-blocking me badly.

I attempt to ignore it, and wrapping my arms around her I pull her closer to me. In the next moment, Bella pulls herself onto my lap; her legs on either side of mine. "Tell me, Edward..." she coaxes me, her lips grazing against mine before they part and merge with them fully, taking me deeper with her again.

"She... got Emmett to beat me with a cricket bat..." The words spill from my lips when she releases me, and I'm beginning to feel like I'm out of my mind. But before I can stop myself and react to it, her mouth closes over mine, instantly making me forget what I'd just revealed to her; making me lose myself in her even more.

My skin is burning, and she's grinding against me—whether she's aware of it or not. I'm struggling to hang on, but at the same time I don't want to, and every second that passes with her weight over me, and her mouth against mine, I'm getting closer to the edge.

"Don't stop... Keep going..." She's pulling clumsily at my belt, but I'm barely aware of it. I don't know what the hell is going on, just that I no longer want her to stop.

"I-I had five... b-broken ribs... She made me tell the doctor I fell off the roof. Jesus... I want you, Bella." My breath is beginning to shorten. I don't know what the hell's happening, just that she's cracking me somehow, and I really want her to.

"I know you do..." she whispers against my parted lips. She has my pants unzipped, and her hand is inching into my underwear. "And you can have me, I promise." Then before I'm barely aware of what's happening, she wraps her hand fully around my dick.

I shudder and almost lunge off the lounge. "Fuck!" On instinct, I wrap my hand around hers, but I don't know what for; it's not to stop her.

"Edward, listen to me." She pulls slightly back to meet my gaze and her eyes are serious. "I want you to give me all your pain, and I'll hold it for you, but you have to let it go. Okay...?"

I nod a little too jerkily and utter out a muffled groan, but at the same time, I really don't want to lose my shit in her hand.

Her mouth closes over mine again while her hand squeezes and then pulls, and I'm practically bloody twitching. I drop my head back against the cushion of the lounge and close my eyes, struggling to contain this mountain of arousal she's suddenly plunging me into.

She kisses me unlike I have ever been kissed before. Her lips merge with mine deeply and repeatedly, her mouth opening to me each time she does. I'm finding it hard to keep my brain focused on where her hand is, while concentrating on what her mouth is doing, until I'm beginning to feel scrambled. I keep my hand clamped around hers, and she laces her fingers with mine until I'm practically jerking myself off.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm conscious of the fact that shit's about to get really fucking messy, but it's too late now. I'm well past the point of no return.

I'm beginning to flush with heat. Heat that's causing sweat to bead over the surface of my skin, while the burning energy expanding from me shoots down my arms and legs. I'm practically choking behind it, and it almost feels painful, except it isn't. I just realise that I've never been with a woman who could pull this kind of physical reaction from me before.

She squeezes her hand around me one more time and it's enough to push me over the edge. Uttering a completely fucked up groan against her lips, I let myself go. And Jesus...

I'm suddenly exhausted as if I've just run the bloody City to Surf. My hands fall from around her to my sides, and I fight to catch my breath.

"Fucking hell..." is all I manage to say. My pulse is throbbing at my temple, my throat, bloody everywhere.

Bella's quiet; she runs her hands through my hair, and pulls my head forward. My face drops against the curve of her neck, and I groan again softly, because I feel like I'm about to have a some kind of bloody stroke.

Her skin is soft, and she really does smell nice. I close my eyes and clear my mind for a moment until I can think clearly again.

"Bella... what the hell just happened?" She pulls back, and my head slumps forward, my chin thudding to my chest. "Holy shit..." I'm in complete disbelief and I think I mean to laugh, but it comes out sounding like I'm drunk.

Taking my hand in hers, she raises it and then drops it again. I don't have the energy left to control my own body right now, and it flops heavily back to the cushion beside me.

"He's finally relaxed." She laughs gently, muffling it against my lips as she kisses me again. "Christ, darling, I though your head was going to explode."

"It might have. I'm not sure yet," I mumble, grinning drunkenly, my eyes still closed. "Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

"From my shrink. For a thousand bucks an hour, he'd want to teach me how to extract demons."

* * *

 ***City to Surf – 14 kilometre (8.5 miles) run from the Sydney CBD to Bondi Beach.**

 **ETA: Bella's shrink does not teach her how to give good hand jobs, but how to replace bad memories with positive experiences. Hope that helps :)**

* * *

 **A/N: Let me know how you liked, or didn't. Or you can flounce. It's all good. If you feel the need to attack this story at least try and be constructive.**

 **MWAH xoxo**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I know I'm updating pretty fast these days, but I'm still more than ten chapters ahead. It might not always be like this, but fingers crossed.  
Thanks, as always, to Kimmie45 who got this one back in a day. You're super gorge, doll. And thanks to all those who left a review. Sorry I didn't thank you personally. If I'm going to update within a few days, I might not. I appreciate all your thoughts, though, and I enjoy reading them. You've all been super kind and encouraging.  
Anywho...  
xoxo**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 12**

 **Bella.**

I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to the sight of a half-naked Edward Cullen in my bed, but right now I'd like to handcuff him to the headboard and keep him there permanently.

He's lying on his stomach, his back a mountain of muscles that rises and falls as he breathes. He's snoring softly, and Christ, how can a man be as appealing in sleep as he is awake?

I could bloody eat him.

Tonight was our "D" date. The date we had sex. Not counting the first date—because that was more therapy than anything else—we made it to date number four. I don't usually add timeframes to dating, or put any restrictions or limits on interactions, but tonight for some reason, I started wondering whether my mother would give her approval.

Not to Edward, but to my barely holding out a week.

I plan on waking him up soon for another go at it, because God, I need that hot, heavy body over me again. He really has no idea what the hell he's doing and it's ridiculously adorable. He's clumsy and completely bloody unco, and of course, he apologises during sex as much as he does in every day circumstances. It makes me wonder what else his evil witch of a mother did to him, because he apologises so much it's as if he's been programmed to believe he's constantly at fault.

Which I suspect he has. I might have to kill her.

There's something about him that makes me want to go all maternal and protect him. He's this strapping specimen of a man, but at the same time he's like a little boy. He has this innocence to him.

All things considered he's remarkably well-adjusted, and it seems his grandfather saved him and his brother from being another statistic of the curse of the filthy rich.

He doesn't flinch when I touch him anymore, thank Christ, because he's the sort of man no sane girl could resist groping. He sure was wound tight, but nothing more than a good hand-job can cure. It needed to be done, because that gorgeous man was so seriously backed up I'm sure it could have caused him some kind of erectile dysfunction later in life.

Oppa's already come around to him. Bloody turncoat. He whores himself out the moment Edward walks in the door. Earlier tonight, I found them snuggling on the lounge together and I knew we weren't going to make it to date "5". I know I promised him after date "1" that he _could have me_ , but I feared anything more after that night could possibly harm him. And I did want to see how long I could hold out.

It wasn't long.

I invited him over to cook dinner for him with the sole intention of getting those clothes off him, and he didn't disappoint. He's ridiculously fit, unlike Jake who pumps iron, but like he swims endless hours of laps.

He was more than willing, but Christ, we're going to have to work on his endurance.

 **. . .**

I tip toe down the hall and into the kitchen where Oppa's asleep in his bed. I switch on the kitchen light and he's immediately awake jumping around me. No one ever warned me that Poodles were so hyper.

"Oppa... _speak_ ," I command in a whisper, and of course, he immediately obeys, because apart from being hyper, they're also ridiculously smart. I jump up and down revving him into excitement until he's barking repeatedly, and loud enough to wake the sleeping Adonis in my bed.

True enough, thirty seconds later Edward staggers from the room, still clearly half asleep and naked apart from a pair of navy blue Bonds undies. He really does have a thing for Bonds clothes in general, not that I can fault him over this one.

"Christ, sorry, Edward," I immediately apologise. "He probably saw a bloody mozzie or something. He's such a sook."

He mumbles out a throaty-sounding hum, a half drunken grin forms across his face, and God, he looks like a twelve year old who just lost his virginity. "Hey."

"Hey."

"What time is it?"

I glance hastily around knowing I've got the time somewhere—the stove. "12:30."

"Hmmm..." He runs his hand to the back of his head and scratches. "You're not tired?"

"Well, that depends..." I arch a brow giving him the universally understood "fuck me" look.

Being half asleep, his reaction time is slightly delayed, but it isn't long before his drunken grin is replaced by a canny smile and his Bonds knickers start getting a workout.

Only four "sorrys" this time, and he did bang his head on the headboard, but there's something about a guy grabbing his head in pain while he's about to come that's ridiculously adorable.

Or maybe I just find everything about Edward ridiculously adorable.

Like the first time, after he brings himself back down he immediately moves to pull his hot, sweaty body from mine, but this time I don't let him.

"Would you just bloody stay still?"

"I'm sorry, Bella... I don't want to squash you," is his reasoning, and his eyes are so full of concern that it's killing me.

"Christ, Edward, I'm not made of glass." I snake my hands around his neck and encourage him to relax, but it's not easy with this guy.

He pulls himself up on his hands as if he's about to do push ups over me.

"What the hell are you doing now?"

He starts chuckling, it's husky and gruff, and suddenly he plunges his face into my neck. "I don't know—I'm worried about you."

"Are you breaking one of my rules?"

"I'm _physically_ worried about you, I mean," he raises his head and clarifies, and I'm pretty sure there's reference to one of my rules in there somewhere.

"God, why? I'm not dying."

I can see it in his expression, he doesn't like me saying things like that. He only stares at me for a moment, and when he opens his mouth, I'm convinced he's about to articulate it, but what he actually says surprises me.

"Bella...?"

"Yes, Mr. Whiskey Voice?"

"I'm sorry?"

"God...never mind."

He smiles, scoffing it quickly through his nose before his expression turns serious again. "You're _protected_...right?"

"Of course I am." Christ, how am I going to get out of this one? I can't tell him anything so heavy after our D-day date, but I need to put the poor man's mind at ease. The upside is I get the luxury to be super careless; the downside...well my shrink did allude to the fact that I probably use sex as therapy. The bloody irony; I've become Lauren Mallory.

God...get me out of this hell.

I've noticed Edward does this expression when he clearly wants to pry, but he fears upsetting me, or maybe he's just too much of a gentleman. He gets a crick between his eyes and he looks like his mind is drifting off into space. He's doing that now.

He wants more details and...shit.

"I'm on the pill—it regulates my cycle. I've been on it since I was a kid," I outright lie. It's always the safest route to go because most blokes are clueless when it comes to women's plumbing.

His expression relaxes and he releases his breath letting me know he's as relieved as I am. Just for different reasons.

Since he refuses to relax his weight against me, I put him out of the torture of straining over me and crawl out from under him. He immediately opens an arm for me and I curl against his chest.

"Hey?" I say after a moment of inhaling the combined sex appeal of Aramis and woody sweat.

"Hmm?"

"You'd think you'd be a lot more careful after knocking up Lauren Mallory. What if I was playing Russian Roulette?"

"Yeah...I know. Shit... I'm sorry."

"Christ, Mr. Apology, this is really becoming an epidemic."

He does this husky kind of laugh against my hair. "You're really beautiful, you know that?"

Aside from the apologies, Edward also has a habit of being really random.

"Well, my mother was a model, Darling. It's just a pity I'm so short."

"Could you not joke around just once?"

"Well, what am I supposed to say to something like that? Get all up myself like Rosalie Hale?"

"You talk too much." There's amusement in his voice, but he's tired. The poor man probably isn't used to sex twice in two hours. I have a suspicion that aside from Lauren Mallory, he's probably only been with one other woman.

God, I've got a lot to teach him.

 **. . .**

Edward and I haven't really done our sad stories yet; not that I have any plans to. That's a Misery Street I don't want to go strolling down. Aside from what Edward revealed to me on our first date, he hasn't said anymore. He's asked me a few things about my past, but I've successfully swayed him off the topic. There's nothing that can put a damper on a great sex life—despite all his inexperience it really is great—quicker than the _Isabella Swan Saga_ , and one thing I cannot stand is pity or sympathy. Yeah, my family's dead, but I'm not, and I don't want to be treated any differently than your average person who hasn't been to hell and back at the end of a Linfox truck. I cannot be defined by what happened to me; not anymore.

I don't want to know more about Edward's pain either.

It's not that I don't care; it's that he's the sort of person that will make me care too much. The truth is, I don't want to fall for him, and the more I know about him the more dangerous it will become. At the moment, I'm happy to be in lust with him, and I consider it my duty as a female to get the poor guy up to par in the sack. He's so fumbling and completely clueless that it could take a while. Plus, he's so easy on the eye I don't mind seeing him around my house, and it's good to have a full schedule on the weekend again.

I have to keep busy; I'm not the sort of person who can sit around doing fuck-all. There's nothing worse than an idle mind, it opens the door to stuff I don't want to let in.

I haven't told my shrink about Edward yet. He wouldn't agree, and I don't want a man I'm paying thousands of dollars a year to go all parental and put restrictions on me. He doesn't think I'm _emotionally healthy_ for a relationship just yet. In fact, he actively warns me to avoid them. Apparently, aside from being detrimental to another person, opening myself up to another could send me spiralling toward suicide alley by triggering extreme anxiety and depression.

As if I need someone else for that to happen.

I have to keep myself detached from Edward emotionally. For a while at least, until being in a relationship doesn't essentially scare the crap out of me and push me to the brink.

While I still have really shit days, and certain events trigger those four bloody letters I have come to despise, PTSD, I'm doing a lot better than I was three years ago. My nightmares have dwindled to roughly one a month, and I haven't had a panic attack in ages. The positive is that Edward knows what happened to me without the awkwardness of me having to fill him in—well, he knows most of it anyway. So, I figure if something happens to send me off the deep end when he's around, he at least won't be too shocked. Knowing what he's been through himself, he'll probably be the best person to have around.

Christ, how depressing.

I suppose with me spending every weekend with him, something was bound to happen sooner or later. _Try and see the positives in everything_ , as my shrink would say. So the positive is that at least the biggest freak out I had all year was around him, so the next time it happens he'll be somewhat immune.

I don't like being on highways, and I absolutely do not like the roaring sound that a semi-trailer's engine makes; most especially the sound of its breaks.

Occasionally me and my phobias collide, like my boss' wedding for example, and I always have strategies set in place for those very instances. I sweet-talked the limo driver into letting me sit in the front seat, but we were on the bloody M5 for more than an hour with trucks of all sizes everywhere. I slept the entire way there, by drugging myself with antihistamines thirty minutes beforehand.

I can tolerate it in small bursts without coming apart. I'm on the M1 Freeway for 2 kilometres every day for work as I drive to Milson's Point to catch the ferry. I can usually handle it without any meltdowns. I just don't over think anything and keep my eyes ahead of me.

So when Edward suggested we drive to The Royal Botanic Gardens for lunch four Saturdays later, I didn't think much of it. We'd be on the A1 for a kilometre more. I could handle that.

In hindsight, we should have taken the ferry.

We're approaching the Sydney Harbour Tunnel when it happens; a sudden gridlock that requires Edward to hit the brakes—pretty sharply. I'm propelled forward, the seatbelt catching me and knocking the wind from my lungs, but that's when I hear it. That god-awful sound of a truck's screeching tires behind us.

I squeeze my eyes shut, promptly reaching out to Edward to brace myself. The impact I'm expecting doesn't come, but the panic does. And panic attacks quickly trigger asthma attacks.

I know the calling card of panic immediately. The first thing that happens is all sound is muted only to be replaced by a high pitched ringing. After, I lose all perception of time. Everything seems in slow motion, while the only thing in real time is the sound of my breath rushing in my ears as it gets shallower and shallower.

That's when shit hits the fan.

I try to escape, literally, while Edward's still driving through the Harbour Tunnel at sixty kilometres an hour. With my most primitive instincts pushing me forward, I grab the handle of the car door and attempt to jump out. Edward immediately reaches out and pulls me back in, but there's no place to stop; he has to keep going until we're out of the tunnel.

I turn to him, and while I can't hear what he's saying, he's clearly yelling, with the most intense expression of fear flooding his face.

That's when it all comes crashing back to me. All sound and time, all at once. I can barely breathe, and I'm screaming at Edward to let me out.

He puts his foot down to exit the tunnel quicker, but it only makes me worse. He's driving erratically, with one hand on the wheel while the other is clamped to my shirt keeping me in my seat.

Once we're out of the tunnel, Edward takes a sharp right onto Macquarie Street, and I don't know where he parks, whether it's legal or not, but I'm already out and stumbling to the footpath on my hands and knees before he comes to a complete stop.

I can't breathe, I'm drenched in sweat, and I feel like I'm going to bloody die.

Edward instantly has me in his arms, shoving my inhaler down my throat, while a couple of dozen spectators start milling around.

And then I do what I usually do after a particular nasty episode of asthma; I throw up. It's my body's natural defence mechanism, to expel anything and everything that could be impeding my airways, and it goes all over Edward.

Some perceptive bloody individual has called an ambulance; they arrive minutes later, and quickly haul me in the back. I only shake my head in a feeble protest, but I am so weak and shaky, and barely breathing, that an oxygen mask is shoved over my face and I'm strapped to the gurney.

I glance around hastily for Edward, when I finally find him. He's standing roughly six feet behind the ambulance, his eyes wide as he stares back at me in complete bloody horror, covered in puke.

* * *

 **A/N: Let me know, or you can lurk. I suppose that's okay.  
MWAH.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: The next few weeks I probably won't be updating as frequently. I will post not fewer than once a week, though. It's just I'm kind of at a cross roads and I'm still undecided about a few things. It should be cleared up fairly quickly. Here's hoping.**

 **Thanks again to all who left a review. I'm sorry, I didn't thank you again. I suck. It's not like I'm drowning in reviews that I can't. I'm just being a slacker.**

 **Thanks to Kimmie45, of course, because she rocks my writing world, and she also wanted to leave a few words at the end.**

 **BTW,The Fallen was nominated and placed in the top ten completed fics for October. If you voted, that was really gorge of you,but you didn't have to. I'm just happy you enjoyed.**

 **xoxo**

* * *

 ***Pissed – just a reminder that** _ **pissed**_ **on its own means drunk.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 13**

 **Edward.**

"What the hell happened to you?" Jake exclaims the moment I walk through the door. "Jesus, is that _spew_?"

"Bella was sick," is all I reply, dropping her handbag on the dining table and heading towards the laundry; unbuttoning my shirt as I go.

"Was she pissed?" he asks.

" _Pissed_?" I ask in fucking disbelief, glancing over my shoulder at him. "For fuck sake, Jake, who else other than _you_ would be pissed this early?" Yanking my shirt off, I dump it on the counter, and then undo my belt.

"Geez, all right." He follows me. "What happened? You look... messed up."

"Yeah, well, watching your girlfriend try and throw herself out of a moving car will do that to you," I say sarcastically, kicking off my shoes so I can strip my jeans off.

"Christ, what the hell happened?" He's serious this time.

"I don't fucking know," I snap, frustrated. I'm more on edge than I'm frustrated, because I know I can't keep denying that something is seriously wrong with Bella. "We hit traffic just before the harbour tunnel, and the next thing I know she's losing her mind and trying to jump out of the car. I almost took out a taxi trying to bloody stop her."

"You hit the brakes suddenly?"

"Yeah." After discarding my jeans in the washing machine and throwing in my shirt, I look up at him .

"Shit, mate. Did you forget it was a pile-up that killed her family?"

I pause, running my hand rigidly through my hair, because I did. "Fuck..."

"How'd she end up puking?"

I head towards my bedroom to have a shower. The bloody puke seeped through my clothes and is all over my skin. "She had an asthma attack and couldn't breathe." And that look of panic in her eyes... "Look, mate, I can't hang around and talk. I don't even know if she's okay yet."

"Are _you_ okay?" he asks. "Want me to come with you?"

"No, I'm fine." I head into my bathroom and slam the door behind me. I'm not fine.

Fifteen minutes later, after throwing on a clean set of clothes, I head back out and run into Jake. "Where's my keys?" I ask, glancing around for them. My eyes fall to Bella's bag on the table; its contents are spilling out.

"Check in the laundry," Jake suggests, as I grab Bella's bag and start shoving the shit back in. That's when I notice the small, white bottle, and picking it up, I turn it over in my fingers to read the label.

 _Prozac._

Christ...

"Come on, I'll drive," Jake announces, holding my keys up.

I shake my head, but he grabs me and shoves me forward before I can put up a fight.

"I'm in over my head," I mumble after he reverses down the driveway.

"With Bella? Why?" he asks, with his eyes on the road.

"Because... I don't fucking know. I feel like everything's about to turn to shit!" I'm frustrated, and really fucking scared. Over what I'm not even sure. _Her_ is the bulk of it.

"You're probably overthinking it," he says, before he snorts. "Which is pretty much all you ever do."

"She won't talk to me—she keeps me deliberately out."

"How long have you been together?" he asks, turning onto the A1 to go over the bridge.

I pause to contemplate it. "Where do you start counting from?"

He rolls his eyes. "From when you first have sex, of course."

"Ah... six weeks."

His brow furrows as he obviously does the calculations it in his head. That's when he turns to me, his eyes wide in shock. " _You two_?—maaaaate…" He's clearly impressed.

I scoff. "Christ, don't be a dickhead."

"This coming from a guy who used to jump out of his bones if a girl breathed on him too hard." He snickers. "I'm bloody proud of you, mate. I'll have to ask Bella what her secret is."

"She's really bloody persuasive, is her secret," I reply, smiling ruefully to myself.

"Library girl? Yeah? You think you know someone..."

"She's not okay, though. That's what I'm trying to get at. She likes to convince me she is, but she's not, and she has all these rules that prevent me from even bringing it up."

"What rules?"

"No sympathy, or she grabs my dick."

He starts laughing. "I knew there was a reason I always liked Bella. What do you want to bring up anyway? What happened to her?"

"Yeah."

"Geez, mate, why _would you_ want to bring all that up?"

"Because she's... _slipping_ before my eyes, and I've got fuck-all idea how to help her," I answer, my hands impulsively balling into fists. I want to punch something; I have no idea what.

"It's too early for all that shit, yet. She probably just wants to enjoy getting you in the sack before you two go all _deep and meaningful_. Don't push her, and stop being so bloody uptight about everything."

I gaze at him for a moment. It's really bloody poetic that I'm getting relationship advice from Jake, but I he has a point. And Christ knows he's known me long enough to get my bullshit.

"Yeah, maybe," I mutter.

"You can't really expect her to be completely right, though. What happened to her would fuck anyone up," he adds, turning from the road to scrutinise me.

"I know..." I concede. "You know she doesn't own a TV?"

"Yeah?"

"I get the impression she prefers to keep herself isolated from all the shit on the news."

"I can't blame her there." He slows to a stop before the traffic, and turns fully to me. "What's wrong with you? You're not trying to sabotage it, are you?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"I said fucking _no!_ I bloody love her already, but it's a bit hard when she has a giant fucking wall around her."

"Christ, alright, mate." He sighs; he thinks I'm over reacting again. I probably am. "Just give her some time. She probably doesn't want to lumber all her heavy shit on such a good thing."

"I know, but... Fuck..."

"You had to know going in that library girl comes with a ton of baggage."

"Would you stop calling her that? She's a completely different person now to who she was in high school."

"Yeah? How so?"

I pause and think back to how Bella used to be. The girl who once hung out in the library every day, reading or volunteering. The girl who used to look at me like she expected me to slip Rohypnol in her Coke. "Remember when you could barely get a word out of her back then?"

"Yeah."

"Now she talks so much she barely comes up for air," I say, smiling slightly to myself. "And, she's a hell of a lot better in bed than I am."

"Mate, my bloody goldfish is better in bed than you are. How'd she get you in the sack on the first date anyway? She drug you?" He smirks to himself.

"You're a smart arse—and she didn't get me in the sack. She just... got me to relax."

"That couldn't have been easy. Give you a blow job, did she?" He turns to glance at me raising a sleazy brow.

I roll my eyes. "Not quite."

"What?—don't tell me she whacked you off during the movie? Christ, it's always the ones you least expect."

"Not during the movie—anyway, it's none of your bloody business."

He starts chuckling. "Righto. Just stop overthinking it and bloody enjoy it. There's plenty of time to bawl over your past with her."

"Yeah... still. Something's not right. I mean, why the hell is she a _secretary_? Remember how smart she was? With her grades she should be a lawyer."

"I dunno. Just wait until she decides to tell you, and stop getting your dick in a twist over every little thing she does."

I take a breath and release it heavily. "Yeah, you're probably right," I mumble, but as much as I wish he was, I'm still not convinced because the alarm bells have been going off long before today.

That "I don't give a fuck" attitude of Bella's is starting to slip more and more, and I'm beginning to think that not only is she _far_ from okay, but that she's just barely hanging on.

While she won't admit it—while she refuses to even talk about it—every day there's more signs, and every day they worry me more.

The completely fucked up moment in the harbour tunnel today wasn't the first sign, but it was one huge red fucking flag. Not only did she scare me half to death, but I realise that when she's vulnerable her mask comes completely off.

 **. . .**

"Isabella Swan—Dwyer, sorry. Isabella Dwyer," I correct myself to the nurse at the Triage service desk.

She pulls up Bella's information on the computer in front of her before buzzing me through to the ER. "She's just inside."

Thanking her, I turn to head toward the double-doored entry into Emergency when Jake grabs my shoulder

"Hey, I'll hang around here for a while," he offers. He's squeamish and will either puke or pass out at the first sign of blood, but I'm not sure Bella will be comfortable with him seeing her either.

"Thanks, mate." I flash him a grateful smile and push through the doors.

I notice Bella immediately. She's lying at the end of a row of four beds. An oxygen mask is still covering her face while both her hands are pushing into her hair like she's completely on edge. There's dozens of wires coming from her, disappearing beneath the hospital gown she's wearing, as well as an IV in the back of her hand, feeding fluid into her veins.

She looks too small and really bloody vulnerable.

She turns and notices me approaching, and as her eyes lock with mine something in her expression crumbles. She immediately pulls the oxygen mask down from her face and holds her hand out to me.

I pull her into my arms. She's shaking like a leaf, but it's not like she's cold, or even anxious, but as if her skin's crawling. I wrap my arms tighter around her, but she doesn't stop.

"I'm so sorry, Bella," I whisper against the top of her head. I feel like a giant fucking prick. Why the hell didn't we just take the ferry?

"Christ, you're not apologising again, are you?" Her voice is light, but it sounds choked and congested.

I utter a sound that's meant to be a laugh, but it doesn't sound like it. "I should have known."

"How could you have known?" she asks, and that's what she does; she attempts to down-play everything.

I press my lips to her forehead and pull back to see her face. She's pale and her lips are still blue around the edges, but it's her eyes that get to me. They're bright, but at the same time, completely overrun.

This is when I realise Jake's wrong, and this girl, that I'm fast falling in love with, is in a world of pain. And I have no idea what I can do to help her.

I want to tell her I love her, that she's not alone anymore, but I don't. My gut is warning me against it. She's not ready to hear it, and I get the feeling she doesn't want to, either.

All I can do is be here for her and wait until she's ready to let me in.

I knew pretty much straight away that for all her pretences she protects herself with some pretty heavy armour, and she's still not comfortable enough to let her guard down with me, yet. This is the same girl who insists on helping me through my bullshit, but wants nothing even remotely similar from me in return. I know if I try to push her she could shut me out permanently. It's a defence mechanism for her, and I get it, but I could quite easily become dispensable. I don't want to be.

"Bella... you can talk to me, okay?" I whisper, placing my hand to her cheek.

Her eyes break from mine and turn away. "I know..." she replies in a soft voice, but she's not comfortable. She's practically rigid, and every time a nurse walks by pushing a trolley, or there's some clang of equipment from somewhere within the emergency department, she visibly flinches. "S-Stay with me, Edward," she stammers, and when her eyes fix back to mine they're pleading with me. Then, as if to reiterate, she reaches out and clamps both her hands to my shirt, almost pulling me on top of her.

"I'm not going anywhere," I assure her, gently wiping a damp strand of hair from her face.

"Christ... I threw up on you." She sounds suddenly horrified.

"You did." I smile; I can't help it.

"I'm sorry!"

"Don't worry about it." Pulling one of her hands from my shirt, I bring it to my lips.

"Of course I'm going to worry about it. How can you even look at me?"

"Because you're beautiful."

"God, why would you say that?"

"Because you are," I insist, and I wonder how she's not aware of it. Does she even look in the mirror? She has to know how really bloody beautiful she is.

"Don't go anywhere."

"I won't."

"I'm not kidding, Edward. If you leave me here I'll bloody kill you." I'm beginning to think the reason she talks so much is because she's always trying to outrun whatever's constantly at the back of her mind.

"I won't leave you here, I promise."

"Where are we?"

"The emergency department."

"I meant what hospital—bloody hell!"

"St Vincent's."

"Not RPA?"

"Not RPA."

"Good, because I fucking _hate_ RPA..." she mutters more or less to herself, and her expression not only darkens, but her eyes start drowning in that anxiety again.

"I know..." Because I do; she doesn't have to explain that one to me. Royal Prince Alfred is the hospital where she woke from her injuries and realised she was the only surviving member of her family.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she apologises again. She doesn't apologise often, and I prefer it that way. She has nothing to be sorry about.

"Why?"

"For throwing up over you!"

I smile again, fighting the urge to laugh. "Every time Jake gets drunk, he throws up over me."

"Daddy issues?" she enquires.

"Yeah... pretty much."

"Christ... he's got daddy issues, you've got mummy issues, and I've got no mummy and daddy issues."

"Bella—Jesus..."

"What? It's true." she looks up at me like she thinks I'm overreacting.

"It's not funny."

"I didn't say it was funny."

"Can you not joke about it?" My voice lowers, and I'm deadly serious. After the stress she's put me through today, I really can't stomach her sense of humour right now.

"You're breaking my rules."

"I'm overriding your rules."

"It doesn't work that way!"

"Right now it does."

"Christ, do you want me to not mention them at all, or worse, bloody cry about it all the time?!" she suddenly asserts, and I realise she's pissed off. Sometimes she gets in a "shit mood" as she likes to say, but she's very rarely ever angry.

"Shit... I'm sorry." Christ, I feel like a cunt, but I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do with her half the time.

"Oh my god." She's not angry anymore; her anger usually disappears as quickly as it comes.

I laugh under my breath. "You're getting some colour back".

"Hmm..." She tugs on my shirt. "Come and lay with me."

"What?" I ask blankly.

"You're really too bloody gorgeous to be so clueless sometimes," she mumbles to herself.

"I don't want one of those evil nurses to chuck me out," I explain, and she breaks into an immediate smile.

"If you don't lay with me, _I'll_ chuck you out." Grabbing my hand she pulls me closer to her before shuffling over to accommodate me.

Making sure to avoid all her wires and tubes, I lay beside her and open my arm for her.

She curls herself against my side and closes her eyes for a moment, taking a breath and expelling it deeply.

"Put this back on," I say, attempting to place the oxygen mask back over her but she pushes it away.

"It irritates me."

"For five minutes."

"No."

Jesus...

"All right, well, why don't you try and sleep for a while?" I suggest. "You look pretty buggered."

"Christ, no," she insists. "You go to sleep in a hospital and you never know where you're going to wake up."

"You'll see me when you wake up," I promise her, dropping my nose to her forehead.

"You're adorable."

"You talk about me like I'm Oppa," I tease her, my lips grazing against her flushed skin.

She laughs, and I realise she's still struggling to breathe clearly.

"Will you put this bloody thing back on?" I'm more forceful this time, and sighing to herself she allows me to slide the oxygen mask back over her nose and mouth.

"It makes me lightheaded," is her reasoning, her voice echoing behind it.

"Just for a little while—until your lips are no longer blue."

She lasts two minutes, at best, when she again yanks it down until it's hanging around her neck.

"You're doing my bloody head in," I mumble, tightening my arms around her, when she turns and buries her face against my chest.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she apologises again, her voice muffled against my shirt, and she sounds too serious this time; more serious than I'm used to seeing her.

"Why are you sorry?" I murmur, resting my chin on the top of her head.

"For freaking you out."

"You freaked me out, but I'll forgive you," I reply lightly.

"Promise me something?" she adds, and her voice suddenly wavers as if she's on the verge of crying.

I haven't seen her cry, and I don't want to either. Seeing her out of her mind in panic was enough.

"Anything."

"Don't leave me."

"Why would I leave you?"

"Because..." She huffs as if she's frustrated. "Edward...?"

"Yeah?"

"I just... I hate being alone."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading, and let me know your thoughts, but only if you like :)**

 **Here's Kim:  
Hi! Kimmie45 here. I'm beginning to think Bella is a handful, and we haven't even scratched the surface of her walls yet. What say you? And Edward? *sigh* He's so sweet and adorable! Hope you're enjoying the story. Go ahead and find those big girl panties. I have a feeling we're going to need them soon. **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I finished chapter 25, so I figure it's okay to post another one. So far so good. It's been pretty easy sailing, oddly enough.**

 **Thanks, as usual, to Kimmie45 my beta, and to SammyHale who's always around for me even when going through her own personal issues.** **Two top, ladies that's for sure!**

 **Anywho, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 ***Foxtel – Satellite TV.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 14**

 **Bella.**

Nothing makes me crack more than hospitals and sedatives. Those two things combined are guaranteed to turn me into everything I hate; clingy and neurotic.

Of course Edward, as gorgeous and sweet as he is, only looked at me with that super intense gaze of his turning tender and promised me everything I asked.

Christ, this man. I'm still waiting for the catch. Aside from all his underlying mummy issues, he's way too good for me. I'm going to hurt him, and I hate myself for it already.

What I really need to do is pull out now before it goes too far, but he's already ensnared me and I'm not going anywhere. I don't want to. In fact, I'm feeling more at ease with him. I also realised that spilling my guts to him, even minimally, didn't cause the world to end. I'm starting to think that just maybe I could open up to him more. Maybe I'll be okay.

Maybe he's just what I need to pull me out of this reoccurring nightmare.

He still hasn't taken me to his house. He's embarrassed by it, which only means it's probably the biggest bloody house on the harbour. The bloke is a definite oddity.

I decided to cash in on the guilt he was feeling after the tunnel incident and persuaded him into taking me. He's not happy about it, but it doesn't take much to talk him around. The last few weeks he's spent the weekends at my house. He confessed that he likes my house; he told me it's cosy. _Cosy_ is usually not an adjective used as a compliment on the Inner North Shore, but to Edward it is.

There's no doubt a story behind it, and it's not hard to guess what. He probably grew up in a home that was cold in every sense of the word. I no longer pester him about his past, considering I'm not nearly as receptive as he is to divulge my demons, it makes me feel like a bitch. I don't want to take advantage of his sweet nature, or his willingness to trade his pain for sex. Besides, neither of us are ready for the hell that is the Isabella Swan story just yet. I'm doing him a favour.

We have another full weekend planned. Friday night we're doing movies with Jake and his new fling at his house, Saturday is my office Christmas party, and Sunday is lunch at the Botanic Gardens-take two. No harbour tunnel this time; we're taking the ferry. Yeah, I have no intention of repeating that disaster.

 **. . .**

"Hey," Edward greets me the moment I open the door. A ridiculously gorgeous smile spreads naturally across his face, and his voice is rustic as ever.

"Well, hello, darling," I respond, before throwing my arms around his neck, and stretching on my toes to kiss him.

He still tenses sometimes, but usually only if I'm too spontaneous. Like now.

"So...you want to sleep at your place tonight?" he asks after I release him. He has this adorable mannerism where he runs his hand to the back of his neck as some kind of excuse to break eye contact with me.

Christ, he's like a little boy sometimes.

"God, we're not even at your house yet, and already you're trying to get me out," I tease him.

"It's...just Jake's newest girlfriend will probably be staying over, and the walls are thin." His brows raise as further emphasis, while his eyes are practically pleading.

"Okay, say no more," I sigh, grabbing hold of his arm with both hands. "Though, when do I get to sleep in your bed?" Not that I mind his woodsy, Aramisy scent all over mine or anything.

"The next time Jake's gone for the weekend. Promise," he says, wrapping his arm over my shoulders. "Got your inhaler?"

He asks me this constantly now. He even carries one shoved in his front pocket.

" _Yes_ , I've got my inhaler, Mr Stress-head." Pulling him out the door with me, I turn to lock it.

It's been two months and Edward still opens his car door for me. He's the current record holder, but then the man's so neurotic he often leans over me to fasten my seat belt before I can get the chance. It's hard to know whether he's just being his ridiculously sweet self, or if he's running on anxiety over me.

He doesn't latch my seatbelt for me this time. What he does do is untangle the twist in it before he turns back, slides the key in the ignition and switches on the engine.

Christ...

Waterfront houses usually aren't much to look at from the street view. They're mostly facades of garages and looming walls that allude to the expansive back-half of the house that overlooks the harbour. Edward's is no exception. There's a three car garage and the front entrance in a tan-coloured render. It all looks very unassuming.

We enter the house via the internal access to the garage. It opens to the foyer and then onto a hall that leads to the kitchen, meals and family area. My first impression is it's very modern. The walls are white and expensive-looking artworks align the walls and corners. For the most part, the floors are marble, but I do get a sneak peek into what I can only assume are bedrooms where the flooring is timber. It's very cool, and very spacious, but the one thing it _isn't,_ is cosy.

"I haven't changed anything since Pop died," Edward murmurs as he leads me further into the house. In other words, it doesn't reflect his personality, but that was obvious from the onset.

From the meals and family area is another living room that opens onto an alfresco that overlooks the concrete pool and the ridiculously _unobscured_ views of the ocean.

" _Partial_?" I gaze up at Edward arching a cynical brow. "I do believe that was the word you used to describe your harbour view. Partial. _Really_?"

His expression turns abashed and he smiles sheepishly to himself. "Yeah...sorry..."

He rubs the back of his neck again, while I grab hold of a handful of his crotch making him violently jolt.

"Bella _—Jesus_!" he exclaims, his voice restricting while he prises my hand from him. "You're going to have to stop doing that. You're going to injure me."

"Well, you have to stop breaking my rules," I tease him. "Where's your roomie?"

"He's probably downstairs," he replies, and releasing my hand, he walks over to an intercom system on the wall; pushing a button. "You home, Jake?" he speaks into it, and is answered only by static. "Not home yet, I guess." He turns back to me and shrugs.

"Good, you can show me your bedroom then." I hold my hand out to him, and draping his arm around my shoulders instead, he directs me back down the hall.

We pass a formal dining room, then into a small hallway; the first door to the left is his bedroom. Almost reluctantly, he opens it and leads me inside.

It's large, slightly messy, and it smells just like him. His bed is a king-sized base and mattress with no headboard. It's unmade, and releasing myself from him, I climb onto it. It's ridiculously plush, and grabbing one of his pillows I bury my face into it.

Okay, I need his hot, naked body against mine on this bed.

Pulling myself on my knees, I turn to face him, motioning to him with my finger. He only grins to himself but complies regardless, and when he's within reach, I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him to me. He falls against me, immediately bracing himself on his hands, while I run mine up his neck and jaw, bringing him closer to me.

"Since you're taking me back home tonight, you owe me one on your head," I murmur, pressing my parted lips to his.

He only groans softly into my mouth, and doesn't object when I pull his shirt from his back.

Edward has a vein that runs down the middle of his forehead. It often bulges, especially during sex, and I can often judge his longevity from how far it does. When it looks like it's on the verge of bursting, so is Edward. Though, the fact that Edward's entire body locks up just prior is another tell-tale sign, and I love the fact that I am learning these small things about him. That he's becoming more and more familiar to me; like a favourite book.

Of course, he still apologises to me as much as he ever does, and I'm usually forced to tell him to stop. It's become something of our dirty talk, and often goes as such...

"Fuck…I'm sorry, Bella!"

"Would you bloody stop apologising already?"

"Okay...sorry—am I hurting you?"

"Christ, Edward!"

Or something like that, anyway.

Only tonight, Edward adds something new.

As his impossibly rock hard, straining body repeatedly converges with mine, his voice and all those apologies of his becomes lost in his struggling breath. I close my eyes, and he allows his face to fall against mine. I lose myself in the feel of his locked muscles colliding into me, of his nose and mouth as they drag over my face, before rising my head to meet his lips without the need to open my eyes.

For a bloody novice, Edward is by and large the best sex I've ever had, and what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in emotion. He has an intensity about him that translates to everything he does; from gazing into my eyes, to making me scream his name to the heavens. I usually don't, though, and I can get pretty vocal. With Edward I internalise it, because while I become completely absorbed by him, I find myself being more responsive to him; to his body, his heart, his voice...

It was coming, and I'd be an idiot to not expect it, but he still took me by surprise. He took the bloody air from my lungs, actually.

The moment Edward comes he lets go of his breath with it. Usually he'll whisper something to himself. "Fucking hell" is the most common, or he'll tell me he's sorry. I'm still not sure why, but it's so ingrained into him I've already started to disregard it—even though, I shouldn't. I should be knocking it out of him. Edward has nothing to apologise about, and I find it hard to believe he ever did.

Tonight, however, when his breath leaves him and washes over me, he tells me he loves me. I'm not sure if he even realises it at first. He practically murmurs it, as if he wasn't even speaking it to me—despite the fact that he'd spoken my name.

"I love you, Bella," he'd said, and for a moment it didn't register with me. I only hummed out my satisfaction against his hot, torrid body, kissing him in return when he planted his lips repeatedly and clumsily with mine, and then it hit.

Everything with me is bloody delayed. I think it's some kind of learned behaviour deriving from an inherent sense of self preservation. Whatever it is, a moment later, my eyes fly open and my breath draws sharply into my lungs.

And of course Edward has to apologise for it.

While I rarely have to fake orgasms, I've learnt to fake _I love yous_. In the past it became a necessity after I realised "thank you," or "that's nice" wasn't going to cut it. I learned I could fake it pretty good without a shred of guilt, and as I open my mouth to do the same thing to Edward, I immediately stall.

I can't lie to him. I just can't, and while I'm not sure about this whole _love_ business just yet, I do know that Edward means something to me. What, I've yet to work out, but it's enough not to disrespect him by giving him a generic, insincere reply.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Bella," he apologises again, pulling back to see my entire expression this time. That vein is bulging in his forehead again, and those intense eyes of his...

Christ, I'm not sure what to do with him. A part of me wants to mother him, and that can't be bloody healthy.

Running my hands to the back of his neck, I pull his face back to mine. "Don't be sorry," I tell him softly, even as my voice wavers. "Just...Edward...I-I just...don't know how to respond just yet." I'm as honest as I've ever been with a guy, and that alone eases my conscience.

He nods, his lips connecting with mine one more time, before they move to my forehead. "It's okay. I'm sorry, Bella. It just kind of came out."

"Christ, you and your apologising," I reply only mildly exasperated, but happy for an excuse to change the subject. "Can we come up with a new word?"

"What word?" he asks, his voice becoming light.

I open my mouth to answer when there's a loud bang on his door.

"Oi, you in there, mate?" Jake's voice hollers from the other side.

"Yeah," Edward calls back, without reacting as if he fears Jake might just charge right in, and I relax.

"When are you coming out?"

"In a minute!" Edward replies, sounding frustrated.

"Righto, hold your horses," Jake adds, before his voice fades away down the hall.

Taking an impatient sounding breath, Edward releases it, groaning slightly with it. "Okay, I suppose we should go out and meet his bloody root of the week," he mutters.

"His _what_?" I ask, instantly amused.

"I don't know her name; I haven't met her yet," he explains, scoffing out a grin. "She'll be gone by next week, anyway." And pulling himself lazily from over me he disappears into an adjoining bathroom; emerging again in a different pair of Bonds undies.

"What's back there?" I ask, curious, as I peer into his en-suite.

"Erm...my wardrobe," he answers sheepishly, pulling a leg into his jeans.

"Do, I look presentable?" I put to him after I've thrown my clothes back on. I'm already beginning to suspect that I've hurt him. Edward has two personalities; quiet and brooding, and easy going. After sex he's always easy going and maybe a little drunk that it's pretty obvious when he's off track, and right now he's avoiding my gaze.

He glances over at me and smiles; it's the same ridiculously sunny smile as it always is, but there's still something not quite right about him. "You're beautiful," he replies as if to contradict me, but I'm beginning to feel unsettled over him.

After combing my hair in his giant bathroom, contemplating what sex would be like in the enormous oval spa, Edward grabs my hand and pulls me back out of the room.

I am introduced to Nessie, Jake's latest hitch, and she's rather nice. She's not pretentious at all, and there's definitely no hint of a poorly disguised bogan accent, either. Knowing Jake's history with women, I feel the need to warn her, but then Jake is gazing at her with love hearts practically coming out of his pupils.

I turn to look up at Edward; he catches my gaze and deliberately rolls his eyes, grinning slightly to himself.

Christ, he's still not okay...

While Jake and Edward make popcorn in the kitchen, or whatever the hell they're doing, Nessie and I are ushered off into the back living room to get to know each other.

She's a nurse at St Vincent's hospital. Jake had met her when I was admitted after the harbour tunnel disaster, and I feel suddenly complicit in her becoming mixed up with him.

I feel suddenly complicit in general.

Five minutes later, the boys return, popcorn and beers in hand. Edward hands me a Pepsi Max, before grabbing me around the waist and pulling me beside him on the giant modular lounge.

After flipping through his Foxtel Planner we collectively decide on the Han Solo movie and after dimming the lights we settle in to watch it.

I curl myself against Edward, grabbing his hand and lacing my fingers with his. He immediately accommodates me and wraps his arm around my shoulders, but I'm convinced he's upset.

He eventually stretches his long body out, resting his bare feet on the matching ottoman, while he shares popcorn with me. But I'm too distracted. My attention remains on him, at this gorgeous man who, for whatever reason, has some pretty intense feelings for me.

Leaning my chin on his shoulder, I release his hand and run my fingers over his chest. He turns to face me, tilting his head to press his lips briefly to my forehead. "What are you doing?" he asks in a murmur, a smile inching across his face.

"Can we talk?" I ask in a near whisper.

"Now?"

I nod. "Now."

"Okay." Releasing me from his arms, he grabs my hand, pulling me behind him off the lounge. "We'll be back in a moment, mate," he explains to Jake.

"Yeah, no worries," Jake replies, snuggling with Nessie, before we leave the room.

Edward takes me down stairs, past several more closed rooms, and another living area, before he opens a sliding door that leads to the pool.

"What's going on, Bella?" he asks, his voice too serious, before pulling us both to a stop. He releases his breath then, as though he's resigned, and I can't bloody stand it.

"Edward, Christ, I don't want to hurt you," I blurt out, turning to face him.

His brow is etched, and while he catches my gaze for a moment, he quickly looks away. "I'm sorry..."

"Oh my god!" I exclaim, immediately frustrated, but it's a frustration directed at myself, because he's apologising for telling me how he feels. "Edward, this is getting bloody pathological!"

He drops his head into his palm, rubbing roughly at his forehead for a moment, turning slightly away from me. Then shoving both his hands into his pockets, he turns his back to me and stares out over the ocean. I only watch him, at the shadows the moonlight casts on his ridiculously handsome face, before he drops his head.

Something happens to me, then. I'm not sure what, but I feel as if my heart is suddenly clenching. I've hurt him, and it hurts me to realise it. I don't want to hurt him. I'd rather hurt myself, and seeing him so dejected feels completely shit. I can't stand it.

"Hey," I say softly, feeling like I'm on the verge of tears, before reaching out and grabbing his hand. "Come sit down."

He doesn't protest, but then he never does. He's so bloody obliging all the bloody time that he could so easily be taken advantage of. Christ, I want to kill his mother. I mean, I really want to hurt that bitch.

I pull him down beside me on a bench that overlooks the pool, but I don't let go of his hand.

"Edward, I shut my heart off—ten years ago," I begin, shaking my head to make sense of it even as I prepare to explain it to him. He turns to gaze at me, his eyes staring deep down into me as they always do. I wonder what he sees. I wonder how he can possibly love me. "I-I've forgotten what it feels like. To love someone. Christ—I don't know what the hell I feel most of the time, but I know one thing. I _can't stand_ knowing I've hurt you. It's killing me. I want to bloody cry."

He doesn't say anything, he only raises his free hand and places it to the side of my face; his thumb gently grazing over my cheek bone.

"What is this, Edward? What am I feeling?" I'm asking him as though I expect him to know. No, I'm pleading with him.

"I...can't tell you that, Bella," he eventually answers, his voice so soft, and still tainted by pain.

"All I know is I don't want you to go anywhere. You make me smile, Edward. All the bloody time. I sit and think about you at work and I'm grinning to myself like a lunatic. My boss thinks I've lost the plot half the time."

He breaks into a smile, and ever so slightly I feel the shift in him. He opens his mouth to respond, when I continue.

"I just...I've lost touch with my own heart. I can't translate it anymore. It's telling me stuff and I'm just...lost." Christ, I sound like I'm insane. "I know that doesn't make any sense..."

He nods as if to placate me. "It does..."

"Tell me how you feel?" I ask him, thinking if I can just compare, it might make some bloody sense.

He takes a weary breath again, as if I've exhausted him. God, I probably have.

"You're always on my mind, Bella," he begins. "I think about you all day and all night, and I can't wait 'til I see you again. Plus, I think you're incredibly bloody beautiful, really funny, and maybe slightly crazy." His voice turns light and teasing and I laugh despite myself. "And that first date of ours..." He smiles to himself, before he's directing it at me. "You're just...amazing."

Christ, even now he's so bloody adorable. I don't deserve him, that's obvious enough, but everything he said...

How could I have fallen in love with him and not even realised?

* * *

 **A/N: Yay or nay?**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Happy Saturday. Happy reading.  
Thank you to Kimmie45 for editing. **

* * *

**Vertigo**

 **Chapter 15**

 **Edward.**

I learned something new about Bella tonight. She barely has the ability to recognise her own emotions, or to connect with them.

I guess that makes complete sense considering what she's been through, but I'm not sure what it means for us; just that it can't be good.

Why the fuck did I tell her I'm in love her? I thought I'd stuffed everything up and I wanted to fucking kick myself, but Bella took it surprisingly well. I figured she probably wouldn't say it back to me just yet, and I still have no bloody idea why I even blurted it out in the first place. I lose my head when I'm with her; I lose bloody everything.

I'm beginning to realise the more I get to know her, the harder it becomes to understand her. I'm not sure if she's closing herself off more, or if she's just a bloody enigma. Considering she's not shy about saying whatever the hell comes into her head at any given moment, it shouldn't be a problem, but it is. She has a lot of covers to keep me at arm's length and to avoid talking about her past. Her rules are a cover, and her using sex to distract me is another.

Sometimes I doubt if any of it's real. If she feels anything for me, or if she's even capable of it. I wonder if I'm one of her covers, and if she's using me as a distraction. It's a shit thing to even contemplate, but sometimes it feels as if she's not even remotely serious about me; no matter how convincing she can be.

Maybe that heart of hers really was cut off and it's not coming back. Not for me; not for anyone. But then I look into her eyes and see all that pain that she just barely has under control, and I know there's not much I won't do for her.

I wasn't lying when I told her I loved her. Who am I bloody kidding? I've always loved her. I just wish I knew what to do to get through to her.

Still, she is beginning to open herself more up to me, and I know that's huge for her. So maybe I'm just bloody overthinking everything as Jake's always accusing me of doing. I just can't shake the feeling that everything's about to go to shit.

We didn't make it to the end of the movie. Bella was restless, and my head was so full of bullshit I couldn't concentrate. Plus, Jake and his girlfriend crashed not long into it.

Lightweights.

"Let me just grab my shoes," I tell her after pulling her off the sofa with me.

"Okay," she replies simply. "Let me suss out your bathroom."

I grin, scoffing it to myself. She's the only person I know who still uses the term "suss out". "Righto."

"Christ, Edward, your shower is bigger than my whole bathroom," she exclaims, her voice echoing off the tiles as I sit on the corner of my bed tying my laces.

I only continue to smirk to myself, but don't reply, and in the next moment she reappears and makes her way over to me.

I look up to see her gazing at me, her expression way too serious for what I'm used to from her. I open my mouth to ask if she's okay, when she moves between my legs, wraps her arms around my neck, and pulls my head to her stomach.

"Bella...?"

She doesn't answer. Instead, she runs her fingers through my hair before dropping her lips to the top of my head.

"Bloody hell..." she whispers a moment later more or less to herself.

"Baby...are you okay?"

Tilting her head to meet my eyes, she quirks a brow at me. "What did you call me?" her tone lightens.

"Baby...? Am I not allowed to?"

She exhales shortly through her nose. "God, Edward, I'm not your mother. You can call me anything you want."

My smile broadens, and I move to pull myself from the bed, when she suddenly sucks in her breath. "Christ—what's wrong with me?"

"What?" I ask confused, glancing up at her.

"That was bloody insensitive of me." She glances away, her forehead knotting.

"What was?"

"Bringing up your mother," she admits, keeping her eyes averted from mine.

I laugh shortly, wrapping my arms around her waist and burying my face against her shirt for a moment. "I'm pretty sure you're breaking your own rules in there somewhere."

"You're not supposed to use that against me," she mumbles lightly.

"You can bring up my mother. It's fine, you goose," I reassure her.

She curls her arms around my head again, pulling me back to her while her fingers run absently through my hair. She's making me drowsy.

"Edward?" she eventually says, her voice soft.

"Mmm?"

"You make me worry about you," she admits in a soft voice.

"Why would you worry about me?"

"Because...I could lose you...too..." Her voice softly breaks.

 _Too..._

Christ.

Standing up off the bed, I pull her into my arms. "Bella, I promise you, nothing's going to happen to me." She doesn't reply, and slipping my hand to the side of her face, I angle it so I can see her eyes. "Okay?"

"That's not something you can promise," she says, before expelling her breath heavily. She removes my hand from her face and leans into me, pressing her forehead against my chest.

"You can't live like that, Bella. You'll drive yourself crazy," I murmur, placing my hands around her forearms and burying my nose and lips to the crown of her head.

She utters a sarcastic sounding laugh that's muffled against my chest. "Yeah..."

"How about this," I suggest, snaking my arms completely around her and pulling her fully against me. "We take it one day at a time and not look too far into the future."

She hums softly, then groans. "That sounds kind of depressing." She's not serious this time, but she rarely wallows in anything.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes." She expels her breath again, sounding resigned.

"Good. Now are we heading back to your house? Oppa's probably got separation anxiety," I tease her.

"Okay...Christ." She sighs, pulling herself back from me and flashing me a wry smile. "How can you rather my house over this?" She motions around my room.

"I told you, it's too big."

 **. . .**

By the time we arrive back at her place, something has changed in her. She's gone quiet, which is a giant bloody red flag. After unlocking the door, and virtually ignoring Oppa's greeting, she drags me into her bedroom and pulls me onto her bed, but it's not for sex.

"I'm tired," she utters, tugging me closer to rest her head against my chest before closing her eyes.

"You want to get your pyjamas on, first?" I ask, turning to press my lips against her hair.

"Hmm...no." She sort of shakes her head.

Christ, another red flag, because before Bella goes to sleep she _always_ spends god knows how long in the bathroom washing her face, putting moisturiser on—and fuck knows what else. This is not like her.

"Bella...?

She doesn't answer, but surely she can't be asleep already.

Pulling myself carefully out from under her, I roll her over onto her back. She grumbles and flops an arm over her eyes, but doesn't object.

After unbuttoning her jeans, I strip them from her. Then after pulling my shirt over my head and kicking off my own jeans, I gather her in my arms and yank the blankets over us.

She's out cold within seconds. I take longer to fall asleep. A lot bloody longer.

I'm not sure how long I'm asleep when Bella suddenly bolts upright in bed, sucking her breath in sharply.

I immediately pull myself beside her, when I realise she's still asleep. Even in the moonlight it's obvious her eyes are glazed over and fixed ahead of her, even as her chest heaves rapidly in and out. Her hand is clamped over her heart and her head whips back and forth around the room as if she's searching for something.

"Where...where…I can't. I...I..." she rambles incoherently while the look of panic on her expression is genuine.

" _Hey_?" I slip my arm around her shoulder and attempt to turn her to me. She's shaking, openly.

Her eyes continue to dart around her, the fear on her face increasing, while her breath steadily becomes shallow and restricted.

Leaning over to switch on the lamp on the bedside table closest to me, I grab her inhaler. "Bella." I shake her this time, lightly. "Hey...?"

She turns to look at me, her eyes locking to mine, and I watch as the panic slowly eases from them and is replaced by realisation.

"Oh...shit..." she eventually whispers, taking the inhaler from me to draw it into her lungs.

"You okay?" I ask her, wiping her hair back off her face. I can practically hear her heart as it hammers within her chest.

She nods, looking distracted. "Yeah."

"You sure?"

She frowns slightly to herself. "I'm fine," she answers, not sounding convincing.

She isn't.

"Bella..."

"Edward—Christ. I have these from time to time. It's no big deal."

"Shit...I-I'm sorry..."

She groans, but she's teasing me this time, as a smile tugs on her lips. "You're bloody killing me."

Just like that she's enclosed herself back behind her wall, and I'm on the other side of it. And the person she is when her wall's erected around her isn't who she really is, either.

Fuck, the truth is, I don't know who she really is. I'm just as bloody in the dark as I've ever been.

All I know for certain is Bella is not okay—no matter how much she insists she is, or how many jokes she makes over what happened to her.

She's not okay.

"Hey...?" Her voice softens, and curving her palm around my neck she pulls me closer to her before resting her forehead with mine. "You know what I think?"

"What?" I mumble, my eyes glued to her bare legs.

"I think _you_ think too much."

I scoff. "Jake says the same thing..."

"Were you always this serious?" she pulls back to meet my eyes, and we're back to me again—as if I was the bloody one who woke up in a blind panic.

"No... Bella...listen..."

She groans again, loudly this time. "Okay, I have a new rule. No getting all serious at—what bloody time is it?" She turns and grabs her phone, clicking it open. "Three-a-bloody-clock in the morning? Christ, I don't even remember falling asleep."

"Bella..." I sigh.

"Okay, Mr Serious, this is my new rule," she completely disregards me.

"Jesus..." I mutter, only half beneath my breath, running my fingers over my forehead heavily.

"Edward!" she snaps, and my eyes immediately pull to hers. She looks almost pissed off. "Stop it!"

"Stop...what...?"

"This!" she places her fingers to my forehead. "All this worrying you do. Christ, how do you deal with it all the bloody time?"

"Because, Bella—I know nothing about you."

"You know more than most people," she immediately counters.

"I...shit!" I blurt frustrated, before dropping my head to my hand.

"Edward..." she cups her palm to the side of my face, moving my head back to meet her gaze again. "What do you want to know?"

"I just...want to know you're okay..." Taking her hand from my cheek, I bring it to my lips.

She snorts dryly and almost laughs. "Of course I'm not bloody okay. Christ, Edward. Who bloody is—are you?"

"Bella..."And shit, I don't know what the fuck I'm even saying anymore. "Never mind..." I drop my head again, rubbing my eyes and wondering how the hell I got here so fast.

"Hey—would you look at me? Christ!"

Raising my head, I reluctantly meet her gaze, and for the first time, I realise she's frustrated with me. "I'm sorry..."

She drops her head back and half laughs to herself. "Oh my god..."

"Let's just got back to sleep..." I concede, feeling suddenly defeated.

"Hell, no!" she asserts. "I've got you figured out, Mr Stress Head."

I only arch an eyebrow. I'm not convinced, but then I'm not in the bloody mood to get into this with her, either.

"Do you want me to tell you what I'm like, or would you rather find out for yourself?" she puts to me, and I'm suddenly reminded of how smart she was.

How smart she still is.

Taking a weary breath, I release it heavily. "Fuck...I don't know what the hell I'm trying to say half the time."

"Christ, how can anyone as gorgeous as you have such a low opinion of yourself?" she says, as if she were wondering out loud. She runs her thumb down the centre of my forehead, even as hers knots. "That's a rhetorical question, by the way. I know exactly why."

"Why?" I ask her, even though I'm beginning to feel like a complete fucking dickhead and she's probably only going to make me feel like a bigger one.

"The same reason I automatically think rich guys are complete misogynistic arseholes. It's ingrained in me from my father," she says simply, but I'm starting to suspect this girl is completely playing me.

I shake my head in a fit of frustration, before cupping both hands to her face and tilting it to squarely meet her gaze. "You are phenomenally good at deflecting everything back to me, Bella. You've mastered it, haven't you?"

She only looks at me like she thinks I've lost the plot, and attempts to move my hands from her, but I don't let her.

"You might have me figured out, and you probably bloody do, but I've got you worked out, as well."

Something in her eyes fractures, and for a moment that wall around her slips. But only for a moment. "Edward..."

"Bella...I just need to know—."

"Know what?!" She's pissed off, and yanking my hands away from her she shoves me square in the chest. "What do you want to know, Edward?"

"I want to know whether you're okay being with me—because every time I look at you lately, you look scared to fucking death."

She immediately falters, her mouth falling slightly open, as if she was expecting me to say something else. "I'm fine..." she says, her eyes lowering.

"Fine," I repeat, scoffing sarcastically. "You're not fine, Bella."

Her eyes rise back to mine and for a moment she only stares at me. "One day at a time—isn't that what you said?"

I nod, dropping my head again and running my hand back through my hair. "Yeah... Christ..."

"You need guarantees, Edward. I understand that about you, but how can you ask me to give you one?" Her voice wavers and she suddenly sounds dangerously close to tears. I look up at her, opening my mouth to reply when she suddenly clamps her hand over my mouth. "Christ, if you tell my you're sorry, I'm going to have to kill you." She's flipped back to teasing me now, even as a single tear slips down her cheek.

"Bella...?"

Yeah?" Her eyes drift to my lips, and I know I've only got seconds before she merges them with mine.

"Am I the first person you've let yourself get close to, since...you got your memory back?"

"Of course you are," she replies, as if it goes without saying. "Am I the only woman you've let yourself get close to... _ever_?"

"No turning this back on me." I smile, because she's smiling.

She slides her hand over my shoulder to my neck, before leaning in closer to me. "I can't give you assurances, Edward. I really can't," she whispers, and she sounds like it upsets her to admit it. "But, want to know why I let you in?"

"Why?" I murmur, closing my eyes as her mouth closes briefly over mine.

"Because..." she pulls back only fractionally, her breath washing over my lips. "I don't have to pretend with you." She kisses me again, longer this time as both her hands find their way to my face before she again severs from me. "And only someone as fucked up as you are can really understand me."

She might think she's not pretending, but she is, and she almost has me convinced. Almost, but I soon realise something else about her. When she drinks that wall of hers comes tumbling down all in one go.

The following night is her office Christmas party. It's being held on a Matilda cruise ship on the harbour. It's an open bar, and it doesn't take long for her to get pretty drunk. She drinks way too much, but it's in a way that suggests she wants the alcohol to affect her. The way I once used it to numb me.

After a while, I start intercepting her drinks; drinking them myself so I don't end up carrying her home, or being spewed over again. It's not long before I have to put a stop to it, though, because I really can't bloody drink wine, and taking her glass from her, I grab her hand.

"Let's go outside," I say in her ear.

"Sure, darling," she replies, leaning clumsily up against me.

I pull her after me, out to the deck at the front of the ship; sitting down on a bench that faces the water. She sits on my lap, and grabbing my face she kisses me while the sea breeze carries her hair over my heated skin.

"Christ, you're b-bloody gorgeous," she's stammers before opening her mouth to me more, while one hand cups to my cheek and the other runs into my hair. "Your old man...must have been a real... _spunk_."

"Bella..." I'm forced to utter her name against her lips, before pulling her back. She really shouldn't be kissing me like this in public, and it's a bloody good thing she's sitting on my lap.

She takes a breath and hums it, and closing her eyes she leans her head against mine. "Edward...?"

"Hmm?"

She places her hands to my face again, her lips pressing repeatedly to my cheek, my chin, my jaw... "Why do you always smell so bloody good?"

I grin to myself. "I just do. Let's get some coffee."

"In a moment," she murmurs, releasing her breath heavily again. "Edward...?" She sounds like she's seconds from passing out.

I hum in answer, pressing my nose against her temple.

"You know when I said I didn't love you?"

"You never said that."

She whacks me. "You know what I mean."

"Okay..." I fight the urge to laugh.

"Well, you know I was full of shit, don't you. I really do love you. Too bloody much." She hiccups, and slumps further against me.

"I love you, too." I've probably had too much to drink to fully appreciate what she'd just said to me.

"No dying on me, o-okay?"

"I promise." Christ, all at once I'm beginning to sober up.

"Good." Her hands run to my neck where she once more angles my face to kiss me again. "Can we get off this bloody boat?"

"Soon..."

"Hey, Bella." A male voice breaks us apart before Bella turns from me to face him.

"Oh, hello," she says, before snorting beneath her breath, and I'm not sure whether it was to smother a laugh, or something else. "He's the wanker," she murmurs in my ear. "This is my boyfriend, Edward," she introduces me.

"Hey." I extend my hand around Bella and he grabs it briefly.

"I thought his name was Jeff," he puts the question to Bella.

"That's my middle name," I offer up an excuse as Bella curls her arm around my neck and leans further into me, rolling her eyes

"I only call him _Jeff_ when he's naked, darling," she suddenly pipes up, winking, and groaning under my breath, I shake my head slightly to myself.

The _wanker_ intern smirks, before turning around and disappearing back inside the cabin.

"Christ, he's a sleazebag," she mumbles, and she's surprisingly coherent for how drunk she is.

"He's gone."

"Good. Edward...?

"Hm?"

"Will you protect me from arseholes like that?"

"Of course I will."

"Will you punch them up for me?" She pulls back, her eyebrows raised.

"Erm...yeah, but I can't fight for shit," I admit. "That's Emmett's department."

She starts laughing softly through her nose, and the fumes coming off her alone are making me drunker. "I don't want you to mess up this handsome face, anyway." She hiccups again, her brow sliding clumsily with mine. "Want to hear a secret?"

"Sure."

"You sure?" she pulls back again and sways.

"I'm sure—come here." I pull her back against my chest. Her swaying is starting to make me feel like _I_ am.

"I'm beginning to think... Actually, no, I _know_ —not think."

"What do you know?"

"If I went out with you—when you first asked me. In high school, I mean," she pauses and glances up at me. Her eyes are wide, and fuck, her expression is suddenly really bloody vulnerable all of a sudden.

Tightening my arms around her, I rest my chin on the top of her head. "Yeah?"

She's quiet for a while, before she finally adds, "If I went out with you, my entire family wouldn't have been crushed to death by a semi-trailer."

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 **A/N: Feel free to leave a review, lurk, or troll.  
xoxo**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: I've got a shocker of a migraine today, so I'm going to post this and go and bury myself in the backyard.  
I love you all. Kimmie and Sammy most especially.  
Happy reading.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 16**

 **Bella**

Edward wants to ask me questions. I can see it in his eyes. He wants to ask why I'm _only a secretary_. He wants to ask about the surgery scars on my body. He wants to ask what happened to me after I woke up and realised my entire family was dead. But he doesn't. He doesn't bloody ask me anything. He just gets frustrated at me when I have nightmares, or nocturnal panic attacks.

Sometimes he confuses me, and I'm not really sure what he wants from me. One thing I do know is that his demons manifest as pretty bloody noticeable insecurities. He wants me to lay all my crap out before him, see all my weaknesses, and then tell me he loves me so we can move beyond it.

I know that for certain, even if he won't admit it, but I can't do that. At least, not yet. Maybe, never. I don't know...

My shrink's pissed off at me.

"Didn't we agree you weren't ready for a serious relationship, Bella?" he said at my last appointment as if he was my bloody father disappointed in my report card.

 _He_ agreed, I just went along with it, and then...life bloody happened. Life didn't ask me if it was okay to bring a ridiculously gorgeous, messed up boy from my past back into my life, no more than it asked me to kill my whole bloody family. If I know anything, it's that life throws shit at you whether you're ready or not, and that's how Edward came back into mine. Unexpectedly and completely out of the blue.

He wants me to bring Edward along for my next appointment, but that's not going to happen. Edward does _not_ need to know that side of me—not now. Not yet. I don't want to scare the poor guy half to death. No, I definitely do not want to spook him, and he's the sort of guy who spooks easily.

Besides, we're not ready for anything so serious at the moment. If we were, Edward would have asked me all those questions that are clearly on his mind, but he hasn't.

In return, I don't ask him about his demons, and he doesn't offer anything more as an explanation for his obsessive need to apologise to me. Although, I don't explain why I'm no longer sleeping.

We're at a stalemate. Edward fears rocking the boat, and I fear losing him. I fear that more than anything now.

Christ, why did he have to go and make me fall in love with him? I should never have gone to bloody Leah Clearwater's flat. Every instinct in my gut was warning me against it, and I went for one reason and one reason only. Because of the way Edward had fixed those eyes on me at the park, his brow creasing heavily over them, and just like that, he'd ensnared me.

It's a good bloody thing my mother's dead. She'd never approve of Edward, no matter how screwed up he is. His last name alone would override everything about him that sets him apart from the one percenters of our social standing. It wouldn't matter that Edward's a complete anomaly; he's the grandson of Carlisle Cullen. No further explanation needed.

My mother wouldn't approve and my shrink definitely doesn't approve, but at least he doesn't refer to me as an "emotional vampire" anymore.

Isabella Dwyer: Acute PTSD, emotionally detached, suicidal. Attempts on life – 1. Cognitive behavioural therapy showing little signs of improvement.

I read that once in my file when I first started seeing him. I was twenty-three and I'd just escaped the hell that was my grandmother as well as getting my memories back. What the Christ did the man expect?

Nobody told me that when I got my memories back they'd replace the previous three years of my life; as if the years I'd lost were my most recent memories. No body warned me. It was like losing my family all over again. Mourning them again. Of course I'd switch my emotions off and project other people's onto myself. How else could anyone survive what I needed to—twice?

Okay, yeah, I did attempt to throw myself off the ANZAC bridge, but that was three years ago, and I'll never do anything like that again. I can categorically state it as an absolute certainty. My shrink isn't convinced. He thinks any kind of trauma will push me straight back to the edge. He also thinks opening myself up to Edward will let in the other shit. The black dog as I call it, but it hasn't. I love Edward. I've told him several times, and he tells me all the bloody time—especially during sex. Christ, I swear that man is one step from turning into a puddle of water at any given moment.

The point is, I let him in and I've accepted what I feel for him, and I'm still here—not standing on the ANZAC Bridge in the middle of a storm.

There are some threats to my stability though. I'd be naïve to think there wasn't, but I just refuse to think about them—to give them any validation. It helps when you have a heavy, lean, six-foot-two body over you, while being told the most ridiculously sweetest sap.

Edward cracks open like a raw egg during sex. He lets everything piling up in that handsome head of his out. He needs sex more than I do sometimes, and sometimes I think I'm not even making a dent in his backed up traumas. But that's okay, because he's almost on par to where you'd expect a regular twenty-eight year old guy would be, and he's developed one amazing talent. While his mind spills open, mine shuts off, and it's a bloody godsend. He needs the purge and I need to be shielded, and he's a master of that. How he's able to do that to me is anyone's guess, but Christ...

God sends you the people you need.

Alice told me that once. She's one of those people who swaps religions like knickers. She's into mysticism at the moment, and I usually humour her, taking most of her hogwash with a grain of salt, but that one always stayed with me. It resonated with me, because Edward was exactly what I needed.

What I still need.

I do need to prepare him though, I realise that. One day I'm going to have to tell him the entire brutal truth of my story. I don't want to lump all of it on him at once, so I've been desensitising him; giving him small hints. The first thing I tell him is how I felt like killing myself numerous times after my family had all died.

It's January 1st, and we had New Years at Edward's house. It was just him, me, Jake, Nessie, Emmett and Rose. It went off, even with Rose there being her usual snobby, bitchy self. We all got drunk, and watched the fireworks from the pool. Edward got drunker than I'd ever seen him. His cheeks go red when he's drunk, his eyes go all glassy, and those insecurities of his completely disappear.

He got pretty rough with me in his bath tub. He apologised, of course, and I had to hide the fact that I could barely breathe through most of it. Christ... I knew after, if anything happened to him it'd probably kill me; that includes him leaving me.

I fell asleep in his arms, listening to him snoring while almost suffocating from anxiety. I woke up against him, but this time we were in his backyard where I ran to in my sleep. He chased me down and yanked me into his arms. In the process, it had snapped me out of it and my clarity kicked in as I stared into his wide, fearful eyes.

He refused to go back to sleep after, so we laid on a pool lounge and watched the sun rise. And we talked, and I told him how suicidal I once was.

It freaked him out, and he asked me a lot of questions. Questions I answered truthfully. I didn't tell him that I had actually attempted it, and was saved from the clutches of death by a truckie who jumped out of his semi-trailer and pulled me back over the railing.

It's ironic. One truckie killed my entire family, and another prevented me from killing myself.

"Christ, Bella," Edward said, more or less to himself, before he set those green eyes of his on mine. "You'd tell me if you had those feelings again, wouldn't you?"

I nodded.

"Promise me!" his brows pulled high, and this time his eyes reveal how much my admission scared him.

"I promise," I assured him seriously, because he was always telling me I wasn't serious enough, "but I'm not like that anymore. It was just a dark part of my life I had to get through."

Tightening his arms around me, he pulled me flush against his chest and buried his face against my hair. For the longest moment he didn't say anything, and I thought that was it.

It wasn't.

"When was the last time you had those kind of thoughts." He wasn't convinced, but I didn't blame him. It wasn't that simple.

"Three years ago."

He pulled back, angling his head to see my face, as if he were trying to see any deception in my eyes. "You promise me, Bella? That you'll tell me?" God, he was turning into that little boy again. The one who made me go maternal.

"I _promise_ ," I insisted, but I needed to get off this subject. Yeah, I did need to open up to him a bit more, but maybe I was getting ahead of myself. "You want to go for Maccas or something?"

"You hungry?"

"I need to eat something fattening, and so do you."

"Okay," he murmured. Sitting the both of us upright, he pressed his lips to the side of my neck, exhaling deeply. His breath flowed over me, still smelling like beer and toothpaste from the night before. The pulling himself to his feet, he bent down and scooped me up into his arms.

Edward does a lot of ridiculously romantic things, but this wasn't one of them. I was topless and he was shielding me from the possibility of his brother, or Jake, seeing me half naked.

Jake and Nessie had made it to Jake's room, but Emmett and Rose had crashed in the ground floor family room. We had to pass them on the way to the stairs.

 **. . .**

"Remember when you told me Rose had tried befriending you in high school?" Edward asks, pulling on the same clothes he'd worn the previous night.

"Yes...?"

"I found out why." He turns to me and smirks.

"Oh?" I say, immediately intrigued.

"I'll tell you in the car."

"Emmett knew I liked you," Edward explains as we wait in the McDonald's drive-thru. "He told Rose, because Rose thought I was gay." He scoffs, almost bitterly, reminding me again that beneath his insecurities he's still male and full of pride.

" _What_?" I'm as equally aghast, because Edward? Gay? Not in this bloody lifetime.

"I know," he mutters, before continuing. "Anyway, Rose liked Emmett, even back then. She figured you and I would eventually get together, so she was positioning herself for the best advantage to get to my brother."

"Ah..." It all makes sense, and one thing you can't say about Rose is that she's stupid. She's slyer than a bloody fox. "Is it going to happen with those two? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty sketchy."

"Emmett still has no idea," he says, turning to glance at me with a smile lighting up his face as if he finds it amusing.

"Okay, well, what's the story with Jake and Nessie?" That's a definite mystery.

"The story is, he knows she's too good for him, and that's a bloody first where Jake's concerned."

"You reckon he's going to settle down?"

"If he can get her past his old man," he says after taking our breakfast order and passing it to me.

"That's pretty miserable." I murmur, inhaling the scent of freshly cooked bacon and hash browns. Unable to wait, I pull out my bacon and egg McMuffin and unwrap it. "So, would you have got me past your grandfather?" I ask, after swallowing half of it in a single bite.

Edward turns to me, one hand on the wheel, the other clutching his coffee. His brow quirks as if my question is beyond ridiculous. "I wouldn't have been able to get Rose past him, but you? Easily."

He's stumped me. " _What_?"

"Pop would have _loved_ you." He takes a gulp of his coffee, his smile remaining intact behind the paper cup.

"Well, of course he would, darling." And anyone who'd prefer any female on the planet over Rosalie Hale is someone I'd definitely admire.

He glances over at me, his smile pushing through his nose like it often does. "You want to go back to your house?"

"That depends."

"On...?"

"On whether you tell me more about your pop," I say cryptically, because I know Edward's grandfather had played a crucial role in his recovery from his mother, I had just never been brave enough to ask him about it.

In the beginning, I knew if I asked him anything too personal I'd have to reciprocate. The moment he told me his story after our first date, I realised how badly his childhood had been. I wasn't sure I could bear knowing more so soon. I didn't want to learn anything more about him that would bring me closer to him, and after, it was because I feared learning how deep his pain went. I started to fear his more than my own.

But now the desire to know more about him supersedes anything else. I'm not an emotional vampire anymore. I want to get closer to Edward because I love him, not because I need his emotions to feel. Plus, letting him in, even if it was just a little bit, released so much weight from my shoulders, and I want to be able to do that for him.

My neighbour doggy-sat Oppa for New Years, and after picking him up and feeding him, Edward and I have a shower. After, we curl up on the lounge, but Edward suddenly appears reluctant.

"Bella...I'll tell you about my grandfather, but you don't want to hear more about my mother, do you?" His eyes are beseeching this time, and Christ, this guy kills me sometimes.

"Just tell me what you're comfortable with," I reply softly, wiping a damp strand of his hair off his forehead to press my fingers to his vein.

"All right." He smiles to himself, and taking a steeled breath, he meets my gaze. "Okay...he wasn't always the way Emmett and I knew him. He once worked eighteen hour days and was a cold-hearted bastard."

I nod, my mouth falling slightly open. This surprises me, even though it shouldn't have. I'd often heard my parents talking about Carlisle Cullen and how iron-fisted he was.

"My grandmother was the complete opposite," he continues. "Outside of his business, she was the only thing Pop ever loved. He loved my mother too, in his own way I guess, but he left her to my grandmother to raise, and she spoiled her. My mother was twenty-one when she met my father. He was a plumber from Penrith..." His tone turns wry and he breaks off to quirk a deliberate brow at me.

"Uh-oh..." I say in complete understanding.

" _Yeah_." He scoffs a sarcastic-sounding laugh.

"Apparently my mother was in love with him, but I find it hard to believe the bitch could ever love anyone but herself," he mutters, his expression clouding for a moment. "She thought she could get him past Pop. She couldn't. He found out and told her if she didn't end it she'd be cut off. Of course my mother immediately did, because the only thing she loves more than herself is money," he pauses, running his fingers over my bare legs absently for a moment.

Grabbing his hand, I bring it to my cheek. "She was pregnant, wasn't she?" I ask tactfully.

"Yeah." His eyes rise to meet mine. "She wanted to have an abortion, but Pop refused to allow her to, so she had us." He clears his throat roughly. "My grandmother used to visit us a couple of times a month. She always brought us toys and ice cream. Emmett and I used to look forward to her visits, but we were scared shitless of Pop. Then, when we were eight Nan died of an aneurysm. It was pretty sudden. We went to the funeral and the entire time Pop glared at us. I was too scared to look up at him but I could feel his eyes on me. The wake was at his house and I overheard him yelling at my mother in the kitchen—telling her it was her fault, and her _two bastard spawn's_ , that my grandmother had died."

"Christ, Edward..." I whisper.

"Anyway," he jerks a shoulder as if shrugging it off, "the next time I saw Pop I was in the hospital. I had broken ribs..." I nod again, feeling my forehead knot as he continues, "He was a completely different person. He asked me what really happened, but I was too scared to tell him. He gave me money—like a whole wad of cash—and told me not to tell my mother. The next thing I knew, me and Emmett were moving in with him. He sat us down and told us he was sorry for how he'd treated us and that our lives would be different from that day forward. It was... Jesus..." He scoffs to himself. "It was bloody weird at first, and we didn't know what to think. He took us out for dinner every night, watched movies with us on the weeknights or played PlayStation games with us, and he took us places on the weekends. We used to go motorbike riding, surfing, rock climbing, camping—you name it. And every school holiday we went overseas with him. It was as if he was someone else who just looked like Pop, and we lived every kids' dream."

He takes a break for a moment, leaning forward to grab the can of coke from the coffee table and taking a large gulp. For at least a minute he remains in silence; he only stares ahead of him, obviously lost in his own thoughts. "Jesus..." he murmurs to himself before turning to me again. "When we were thirteen he explained it to us. After Nan died he threw himself even more into his work and the stress got to him. He had a heart attack. Apparently he was dead for almost five minutes when he came back, on his own. I mean they'd already called his time of death." He clears his throat again and runs his fingers through his hair, but this time a smile pulls at the corners of his lips. "You know when you hear about people dying and they claim they went to Heaven?"

"Yeah...?"

"Pop believes that's what happened to him. He saw it all. God, Jesus, angels, pearly gates... And he saw my Nan, and Bella, I don't know whether something real happened to him or whether it was just some trippy experience he had when his brain was sparking. All I know is when he came back he was a completely different person. His entire outlook on life changed."

"Christ..." I say astounded. A nurse asked me a similar thing when I was still in hospital—whether I'd had a near death experience. I didn't. When I woke up it felt no differently than if I'd just had a really heavy night's sleep. I had no idea six weeks had passed.

Edward smiles again as if my reaction is amusing him before he places his hand to my cheek and tucks my hair behind my ear.

"He stepped down as CEO and put all his money into shares and stocks. Sometimes he went into the office, but mostly he was retired. Then when Emmett and I were half way through Year 12 he told us he didn't want us working in his company. He wanted us to find a job that we'd be proud of, that meant something other than power and money, and that gave us time to have a family. He said if we did that he'd support us, and that's why I'm a school teacher while the investments Pop left me pay ten times more than my annual salary."

"Oh my god..." I utter. It makes complete bloody sense. "But, Edward...?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened to your father?"

He expels a heavy breath and rubs his forehead with his fingertips, before he answers in a reluctant mumble, "He killed himself."

* * *

 **B/N: Whoa! I wasn't expecting the last sentence when I edited this chapter. I can't remember if Lyndal told me about his Dad before or not. Also, I feel like I need to explain the tenses in this chapter, while this story is present tense, there is past tense in the beginning. It's ok to be confused, it doesn't take much for me either. Lol.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Kimmie45**

 **A/N: You can let me know how you liked, or didn't. Or anon troll about the reasons it's shit. I won't mind.**

* * *

 ***Penrith - working class burb in Sydney's south-west. It's close to Mt Druitt - aka bogan central.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I'm doing a quick update because I recently finished chapter 29, and Kim got this one back lickety split. She's gorge and so are all of you.  
We're starting summer holidays in rainy Old Sydney Town, so as of today my kids will be home for 7 weeks. Eeep. Hopefully they give me enough peace that I can get some writing in. I am so ADHD that it's often hard to rein in my brain from the 15 directions it's usually racing in. I need peace and quiet. Oy... Anywho, wish me luck.  
Oh, and I hope you like :)**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 17**

 **Edward**

I'm realising I have to accept the fact that when I stay with Bella over the weekends, I don't sleep.

Neither of us do.

Every Sunday I go home shattered, and bloody poetically I look forward to it; to sleeping in my bed, because at least I'm guaranteed to sleep.

When Bella sleeps she wakes up not long after with nightmares, or she'll either jump out of bed looking for Christ knows what, or she'll sit up clutching at her heart or head as she hastily searches around the room.

We don't often sleep at my house. There's no pool fence or railing separating my yard from the harbour. Bella could easily fall in and drown. I can't risk that.

Jake suggested I put a lock on the door, locking her inside the room. It's a good idea if it wasn't so bloody fucked up. It's just easier to stay at her house, and she's stopped asking me about it.

The irony is, despite the fact that we don't sleep, I'm finally starting to relax around her. She's beginning to open herself up to me. While she still has that wall around her, she's starting to let me inside, and every day that I spend with her, I get another piece of the puzzle. Even if sometimes it's not directly from her.

I've given up reacting to her nightmares. Pushing her before she's ready upsets her, and I don't want to risk pushing her away. I'm confident now that she'll eventually tell me everything herself; I just have to be more patient with her.

It didn't really surprise me when she told me she'd struggled with some pretty dark thoughts. To be honest, I'm not sure she'd be normal if she didn't go through that. I'm still not convinced she's past it though, because she still looks at me like she's in the midst of growing anxiety.

Most days now I have a mental itinerary that I go through before I see her, to avoid anything that could send her over the edge. Usually the only time we drive anywhere is to go back and forth between our houses and to the wharf to catch the ferry. If we're going somewhere that requires more than five minutes in the car, I make sure to be on the A1 as little as possible, and I never drive over the bridge or through the tunnel.

It all comes down to nothing, though, because no matter how much I keep her safeguarded, I realised some things are going to be out of my hands. I can't protect her from everything, and she's going to have to face certain things on her own.

It's the end of January and the last week of the summer holidays before I have to return to work. The law firm Bella works for closed down for a few weeks over Christmas, and when she returned I started meeting her every day for lunch.

Most often we eat in the park by the same fountain where we'd ran into each other again. For the entire hour she usually talks my head off, while I stare at her in her tight black skirt, collared white shirt, and ridiculously high heels as I try to get a word in edgewise

She's so relaxed now I realise that this completely cavalier side of her is not a mask; it's who she really is. It makes it easier to detect when she's upset, because when she goes quiet it's stark.

She's quiet today.

She smiles broadly when she sees me and throws her arms around my neck kissing me repeatedly, but I know instantly something's up. There's something about her eyes that has me worried. Bella's dark eyes often conceal a lot of her pain; they're so deep it's often hard to read them, but today they seem almost overwhelmed.

"You okay?" I ask her softly, grabbing her hand.

"I'm fine," she immediately replies without glancing up at me. First red flag, because Bella will often stare deep in my eyes as if she's trying to dissect my soul. "My legs are restless. Let's walk around," she offers up as some kind of reasoning as we head toward the same café we usually order our food from.

After buying lunch, we stroll along Elizabeth Street and back through the park. Bella picks apart her sandwich with her fingers, hardly eating any of it, becoming more lost in her thoughts, but there's something about her expression that makes her appear frustrated.

"Bella..." I appeal to her after forty minutes and she still hasn't opened up to me. "I know something's upsetting you."

"How?" she asks.

"Because you've barely spoken five words to me this whole time. You're not getting sick, are you?"

She shakes her head. "No."

Grabbing her hand, I pull her to a stop. "Having a bad day?"

"Not really," she mumbles, and then she flips. She starts chatting away, but it sounds unnatural and forced, like she feels she has to keep up some kind of charade. Or maybe, she was leading me into whatever's going on in that head of hers, because a moment later she lays it on me. "So, my brother contacted me."

"You're _brother_...?" I echo her, blankly, immediately stopping and turning to her.

"Well, my _half_ -brother," she clarifies. "Apparently he did some detective work and tracked me down on Facebook. You know what his name is?"

"No."

"Jasper. Jasper _Whitlock_." She uses the same tone as she does when she's calling me _darling_. "Who the hell calls their kid _Jasper_? Christ, he sounds like a bloody guinea pig."

I open my mouth to reply, when she continues.

"I know that's a shit thing to say. I mean, it's not his fault who his father is, no more than it's mine." Tossing her uneaten sandwich in the bin she drops her head to her palm and expels a heavy sigh. "Anyway, he wants to meet."

Wrapping my arm over her shoulders, I pull her to me, resting my chin on the top of head. "Are...you okay?" I repeat the same bloody ridiculous question, because we both know 'okay' is the last bloody thing she is. I should have just asked her if she was feeling more screwed over than she usually is.

"I'm fine," she says, sounding distracted and not even remotely convincing. "He's the same age as me—you know that? _Christ_!"

Turning her to fully face me, I encircle both arms around her. "Just...don't do anything you're not ready for, okay?"

She rests her forehead against my shoulder for a moment, murmuring an unintelligible reply before she pulls back and slowly raises her gaze to mine. "He looks like him, Edward," she adds in barely a whisper. "He looks like _me_ —you know how fucked up that is?"

"Christ...Bella..." I react without thinking, but she suddenly looks lost and vulnerable. It's an emotion she rarely displays and it bloody worries me. "I'm sorry..."

She utters a short, sarcastic sounding laugh. "So am I."

She falls back into silence and taking her hand, I lead her to a bench that faces away from the fountain and the hundreds of people walking up and down the pathways. Leaning into me, she rests her hand against my leg becoming more lost in her thoughts.

"You going to meet him?" I eventually ask, turning to press my lips to her forehead.

"I haven't decided," she mumbles, before she pulls her bag onto her lap, unzips it, and takes out her phone. I watch as she opens Facebook, clicks on her messages, and opens his profile, then without a word, she holds her phone out to me.

I take it from her, flipping through his photos, and Christ, he's a blonde version of her. They have the same smile, and the same eyes, only his are blue. He looks familiar, though, and not just because of his resemblance to Bella.

"Shit...I know him," I mumble when recognition hits me.

"You do?" Bella asks, surprised, staring up at me.

"Yeah..." I reply, handing back her phone before rubbing my brow. "He played on St Aloysius' College cricket team."

She scoffs bitterly. "St Aloysius' College... _Of course..._ "

"Bella—"

"The entire time he was married to my mother he was fucking around. Christ, how many more siblings do I have out there, I wonder?" she suddenly bursts. She's pissed off, and in the next second, she pulls herself abruptly off the bench to her feet. "I have to get back to work."

I'm beside her immediately, grabbing her hand. "Hey..."

"What?" she asks numbly, glancing over her shoulder at me.

"I'll walk you."

Her expression relaxes a fraction and she smiles, but a storm is brewing behind her eyes. "Okay."

Bella works for criminal lawyers on Elizabeth Street, almost opposite Sydney Grammar School on the other side of Hyde Park. She stops a few feet from the entrance and faces me.

I take her hands in mine, pulling her closer. "Want me to stay with you tonight?" I offer.

She manages a small smile and shakes her head. "No...I'll only keep you awake."

Stepping closer to her, I rest my lips against her hairline and let the smell of her shampoo flood my nostrils. "I don't mind."

"I'm fine," she attempts to assure me, even as she curls herself against my chest.

"Okay, I'll come around this arvo and we'll get some dinner," I tell her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling back to see her face. She immediately shakes her head and attempts to object, but I cut her off. "Shut up. I'm coming."

She smiles, her breath shooting from her nose as she visibly relaxes. She nods her head. "All right." Stretching on her toes, she kisses me briefly. "Later, handsome."

Hitching her bag on her shoulder, she turns, and walks into the building without looking back.

 **. . .**

It's just after six pm when I arrive at her house. She opens the door to greet me and throws me a warm smile. "Hey."

"Hey." I bend down to kiss her cheek, but placing her palm to the side of my face, she plants her lips to mine instead. "Come in."

She appears a lot more relaxed than she was earlier, and I figure she's gotten over the initial shock.

"What do you feel like eating?" I put to her, bending down to scoop up Oppa who charges at me from the kitchen.

"I don't mind—anything," she replies simply, and turning around she disappears through the doorway to the left of the entry hall. "I'm just going to have a shower," she calls out.

Putting Oppa back down, I follow her. She's standing in front of the bathroom vanity in the midst of removing her shirt. Noticing me in the doorway, she turns to me, her smile this time is sly. "Want to join me, do you?"

"Maybe later," I murmur, knowing if I get in the shower with her, we won't be eating or sleeping tonight, but still, my eyes drop to her breasts covered in a black lace bra and I consider it. "Chinese food?"

"Sure."

I'm gone for roughly forty-five minutes when I return. The house is quiet, but with no television it usually is. Bella's not in the lounge room, I quickly realise, nor is she in the kitchen. Dropping the plastic bag of food on the dining table, I make my way to her bedroom.

"Bella?" I call to her softly, poking my head in the room.

She's lying curled up on her bed with her back to me.

Oppa is at the foot of the bed, and as I make my way toward him, he pulls his head up and gazes at me curiously. I scratch the top of his head lightly, allowing him to lick my fingers, before moving to the side of the bed and gazing down at Bella's sleeping form.

She's out cold, her body completely relaxed, as her breath pushes and pulls from her nose deeply.

A smile pulls subconsciously at my lips. It's good to see her finally sleeping, and peacefully, and deciding not to wake her, I bend down and press my lips gently to her temple.

Her skin is warm, and she murmurs softly and stirs, but doesn't wake.

I head back to the kitchen, and grabbing the food off the table, I yank open the fridge door and stuff it inside.

Bella keeps a small notepad and pen that's magnetised to her refrigerator door, and pulling the pen from the clip that keeps it in place, I write her a quick note.

 **Sleep well, baby. I'll see you tomorrow.**

Then after refilling Oppa's bowl with kibble, I head back home; grabbing KFC on the way.

I don't hear from Bella for the rest of the night, and the next day after meeting her for lunch again, she practically jumps in my arms.

"Christ, you're adorable," she mumbles against my lips, after kissing me repeatedly and probably too much for Sydney's CBD workers, but that's Bella. If she ever cared what people thought of her, I'm not sure, but she sure as hell bloody doesn't now.

"So you are..." I reply, grinning to myself after releasing her to her feet.

"I saw your note..." she elaborates, grabbing my hand. "Why'd you leave me all the food?"

"I dunno...I didn't want to disturb you."

"You're a dag."

My grin broadens. "Have a good sleep?"

"Yeah. I think I slept too much. I feel kind of drunk, actually."

We automatically head to the same café, order our lunch and then walk towards Archibald Fountain.

"So, I decided I will meet _Jasper_ ," Bella pipes up after ten minutes of blabbering on about a couple of co-workers who're screwing in her office, without coming up for air.

I'm about to take a bite of my beef roll when I pause and turn to her. "Yeah...?"

I'm not sure about it, and I don't have a bloody good vibe.

She half shrugs as if it's no big deal. "Sure."

"When...?" I ask, my eyes fixed to her face while I search for any signs that will contradict her. I can't find anything, but then she can be a master at hiding her emotions.

"Friday night. He wants to meet in a pub." She turns to me, her eyes catching mine. "What...?"

"You want me to come?" I don't feel exactly confident about it, and it's something she picks up on.

" _God_ , no. Why? It's already going to be awkward enough."

Breaking my gaze from hers, I turn to stare ahead of me, taking a large bite of my roll. "Call me when you're ready to go home then. I'll come and get you."

She has a habit of drinking too much, and I really don't like the idea of her staggering around the city drunk. But...shit...that will mean driving across the bridge...

"I'll call you when I get back to Milson's Point." She's already two steps ahead of me, but then she usually is.

"Okay..." I mumble.

"Christ, Edward, he's still technically my brother," she blurts out, turning her scrutinising eyes once again on me.

I scoff. Does she think I'm jealous? I wonder what else she bloody thinks of me, sometimes. "That's not what I'm worried about."

"Well, what _are_ you worried about, Mr Serious?" she teases me, making the smile immediately return to my face, even as I attempt to fight it.

I open my mouth but shut it again. "If I tell you I'll be breaking your rules, and I really don't want you to grab my dick in public."

She smirks, arching a dubious brow at me, before grabbing my chin. "You worry too much, handsome." Then removing her hand, she kisses me gently. "But seriously, I have known about him for ten years. It's not like it's out of the blue, or anything."

"Hm... What about the other one?"

She tilts her head in confusion. "Other one—oh, you mean my other _brother_?"

"Yeah."

"He works in Hong Kong. He's been there for a few years apparently," she explains.

I nod my head, mumbling behind a mouthful of my lunch.

"Guess what he does?" Her tone's light, and she nudges me.

"What?"

"A DJ." She starts laughing. "Christ, the old man must be rolling in his grave."

* * *

 **Beta Note: It seems we have a new reader in our midst, reading big people stuff. *Waves* Hi Saxon! Lol**

 **A/N: Kim, you cheeky bugger. Yeah, I recently found out my 11 year old son is reading this fic. Hi, Saxxy. Please don't tell Dad any more details of this story. I promise to buy you a Roblox card. Oy vey... He has Autism and so I really don't know what goes on in that head of his half the time, or even why he'd be interested in this story. But still, I almost died after finding out. He came out after his shower, dressed in his Bonds knickers and proudly told me that he has the same undies as Edward. Seriously, just...kill me...  
**

 **But... Did you enjoy? Yeah? No?  
**

 **ETA: *arvo - afternoon. Kim had no idea and I forget sometimes that us weirdos in the southern hemisphere have a really lazy way of speaking.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: I keep saying I won't be updating as frequently, but then I keep getting more chapters written. But, hey, no complaints, right?  
** **Thanks to Kim for getting this one back to me asap while she's dealing with her own healthy issues. You're too gorge for bloody words, doll.  
Anywho, cue Jasper.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 18**

 **Bella**

Jasper looks so much like my father, he could almost be his clone. I mean, if it was an alternate universe where Charles Swan _QC_ had a man-bun and wore Hawaiian t-shirts.

Christ...

He spots me immediately, a huge smile brightening his face before he motions me over to him.

We agreed to meet at the Glenmore Hotel at The Rocks. I'm late. I missed the bloody ferry after procrastinating for an hour before I eventually decided I was going to stop being such a wuss and meet him.

He's sitting at the bar and as I approach him he steps down off the stool and drags me into his arms.

He smells like cigarettes and Brut 33.

"Hey, Bella." He slaps my back several times, the way a brother should, and I get the impression it's to kill some of the awkwardness. "I reserved a table on the roof. Wanna go up now or get a get a drink first?" he puts to me, bringing the bottle of Crown Lager to his lips and taking a gulp

"Let's go up."

I've been to the Glenmore before with Alice. The rooftop looks out over the Opera House and harbour, so as you can imagine, it's always packed. Just like it is tonight.

We're shown to our table; I sit opposite Jasper. He orders another beer, and one for me.

"A Corona," I intercept the waitress, before turning to him. "I almost died drinking Crown Lagers once."

He grins and leans an elbow on the table. "Hey, you're pretty hot. Too bad you're my sister."

" _What_?" I say blankly, before I realise he's not serious. "There's a word for that, you know?"

"Yeah?"

"Yes— _incest_."

He laughs. "Plus, we kind of look alike—which is pretty nuts."

"A little bit. Is your mother blonde?"

"Yeah."

Of course she is. My father always did have a thing for blondes. Thank Christ, I'm not one. "So was mine."

His smile falters and taking another mouthful of his beer he pulls his gaze to look out over the ocean.

Cue awkward expression.

"You don't have to say it," I preempt him.

"Say what?"

"That you're sorry."

"Okay, I'm not sorry," he attempts to make light of it, and he succeeds. Sort of.

"So, how do you like my house?" I ask, and I'm acting stroppy. It's not his fault, after all. He's just as innocent in all of this as I am.

"The house? In Belleview Hill?"

"Yeah." I suddenly feel ashamed of myself. "God, never mind..."

He breaks into a smile, as if he can understand it from my perspective. "You've got every right to be pissed off, Bella."

"There's no point in it, though. It won't change anything. Did you ever meet him?" I change the subject.

"The old man? A couple of times. Agro old bastard," he mutters, but the smile doesn't wane from his lips. He sculls the rest of his beer.

"Understatement of the bloody century," I murmur.

"She sold it; a couple of years ago."

"I'm sorry?"

"The house in Belleview, she sold it," he clarifies.

I pause, not sure what to say to that. It surprises me. "Oh..."

"Yeah, she couldn't afford the up-keep. Bella..." He looks suddenly uncomfortable.

"Yeah?"

"My old lady, she did it all for money..."

"Did what...?"

"Got herself knocked up by your old man."

Christ, I really hope he's not defending my father. "He's your old man, too."

"As if I could forget." He smirks, and surprisingly he doesn't appear as hung up over it as I thought.

"It is what it is," I say simply.

The waitress returns and sets our drinks before us, followed by two menus.

"Hamburger and chips, thanks, love," Jasper orders without opening his menu.

"Same." Because fuck it, why beat around the bush.

"Tell you the truth, I wanted to get in contact with you when I first found out, but I figured you wouldn't be in a good place," he explains once the waitress leaves again.

"To put it bluntly," I say dryly, shrugging and letting my shoulders drop before leaning forward and picking up the bottle of beer.

"How come you didn't contest it?" he suddenly asks.

"Contest what? The house?"

"Yeah?" He appears curious. "It wasn't in his will, and since you lived there..."

"I was sixteen and my evil witch of a grandmother assumed control over me," is all I offer as an explanation.

"She try and steal what was left to you?"

"Pretty much," I reply, my voice abrupt, before talking another sip of my beer and hoping my _brother_ will take the hint and drop this subject.

"Well...if it's any consolation, my old lady squandered everything left to me and my brother."

I'm halfway swallowing another mouthful of beer when I almost choke. "You serious?"

"Yep, first thing she did was pull us out of our school and stick us in Sydney Boy's High."

"Public school? Well, we have that in common." My evil grandmother did the same thing.

"Yeah?" He eyes me for a moment, and I can't work out his emotion. There's a definitely empathy about him, though.

"Yeah...I assume before that my father was paying for your tuition?"

He snorts. "Of course he was. My old lady was a waitress. Think she could afford eighty grand a year?"

I open my mouth to reply when my phone beeps, and unzipping my bag I pull it out. It's a text from Edward.

 **You okay?** Is all he wrote, and Christ, he's adorable.

"Who's that? Your boyfriend?" Jasper enquires, tilting his head as he attempts to see the screen.

"Yep."

"Do I know him?"

"He knows you," I reply, my eyes on my phone as I reply. **I'm fine, darling.**

"Yeah?" He's surprised. "What's his name?"

"Edward." I glance back up at him before placing the bottle of Corona to my lips.

"Edward? Sounds like a rich boy's name," he jokes. "It's not Edward Cullen, is it?"

"Um, yes, actually," I answer, and I'm not sure I like these preconceived prejudices he has about him.

His eyes immediately widen in shock. "For real? Holy shit, the old man would be proud."

I immediately snort. "Somehow, I doubt that."

"Why's that?" he asks. "He's rolling in it, isn't he?"

"Yeah," I answer, shrugging a shoulder irritably, "but it's not that simple."

"How so?" He arches a cynical brow.

"Because it isn't." I have no intention of explaining Edward to him. "Anyway, enough about me. Tell me about you."

"Nothing to tell, really. You already know most of it," he mumbles, taking another gulp of his beer as his eyes once more wander out over the harbour.

"You close with your brother?"

"Nope." He turns back to me, his expression clouding. "He's a prick."

I observe him for a moment; he's serious. "Fair enough."

"Has the old man's brains," he elaborates, rolling his eyes. "Went to law school and the first thing he did was sue Mum for stealing his inheritance."

I can't say I blame him there, but I don't tell him that. "Did she squander all of it?"

"Yeah...but, Jesus, you don't sue your mother..."

"Is that why she sold the house?" I'm being nosey and it's obvious he doesn't want to go further into it.

"Partially." He's done, and I veer back.

"You close with her?"

He sort of laughs sarcastically. "Not really."

Christ...

"Sorry..." I offer softly.

He smiles, shrugging simultaneously, and his expression this time pulls at my heart. "I've made my peace with it, but we were basically nothing but her meal ticket."

"Well, it could have been worse," I say lightly. "He could have been married to your mother instead of mine."

He chuckles, clearly in agreement. "Yeah, dodged that bullet."

"I suppose it was decent of him to look after you and your brother."

He utters out a sarcastic noise. "Please, it was hush money. The old lady was blackmailing him from the beginning."

"You were in his will, though," I remind him.

He scoffs again. "A lotta good that did me."

"God, did you walk away with anything?"

"A little bit. Enough to start my business, so I 'spose I shouldn't complain. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What made you want to follow in the old man's footsteps?"

I gaze at him in confusion. "What makes you think I have?"

"You work at that barrister's firm, don't you?"

"Yeah...I'm his _secretary_..."

He stares at me for a moment, and you'd think I'd be used to it by now, but I'm not. "But aren't you, like, really smart?—I mean, Mum was always pissed off 'cause every time she seen the old man he was always bragging about you—how you were Dux of your year and everything."

" _What..._?" I ask, barely managing to make my voice audible. My father bragged about me? Since bloody when?

"You didn't know that?"

"Of course I didn't," I snap. "He barely looked at me."

"Yeah, he didn't strike me as a guy who'd be up front about that sort of thing." His voice softens and he offers me up a sympathetic smile.

I finish off the rest of my beer before slamming it down on the table. "Get me another one."

I cannot continue this conversation sober.

He signals to the waitress, and orders a third one for himself.

"Who really grows up in a normal bloody home, anyway, right?" he says, after our meal arrives. "No wonder everyone's screwed up these days. We're sold the lie of the happy family, but most of us are raised in misery."

"That's true," I mumble, managing half a smile as I idly dip a chip in the small dish of tomato sauce before munching on it.

"How long have you been seeing Sydney Grammar's cricket captain?"

"Since October."

"Is he as good in the sack as they used to say about him?" He snickers, and I roll my eyes.

"That's none of your business." But Christ, how far did those rumours about Edward reach?

He chuckles, before biting into his burger.

"Seriously, though," he says after swallowing a huge mouthful. "Knowing our old man, why would you go out with a guy like _Edward Cullen_?"

Folding my arms across the table I sigh heavily and attempt to push back my growing irritation. "He's the polar opposite of my father, that's why."

"Bullshit," he says, unconvinced.

I shrug, deciding not to be bothered by his assumptions. After all, I once thought the exact same thing about Edward, too. "Oh, well... What about you? Got a girlfriend."

"No, but that reminds me..."

I raise my brows, shoving another sauce covered chip into my mouth.

"You know Alice Brandon?"

"Yes..." I admit. "Why?"

"Reckon you can set us up?"

"How do you know her?" I ask, immediately suspicious.

"I've seen her around, and then I found out she works in the same building as you."

"Is there any reason why you can't ask her out yourself?"

"Yeah, 'cause she's way out of my league," he answers, bluntly. "Come on—as your only living brother...?" He tries to charm me.

"That was below the bloody belt!" Though, I'm not really angry.

He grins, and he really is adorable, in a completely dorky kind of way. "Set up a blind date and we can double with you and rich boy."

I flash him a dubious look. "Not if you keep referring to him as 'rich boy'."

Okay, you and _Hugh Hefner_ , then."

"Oh my god!"

He laughs, his mouth full of food. "I'm only kidding."

"I'll think about it."

"Reckon she'd be into me?"

"I'm not sure she'd be pro on the man-bun," I fill him in, truthfully.

"Yeah, no good?"

"You do realise it's this generation's version of the mullet, don't you?"

"No..." he says sceptically. "That's a bit harsh." And reaching to the back of his head he pulls the elastic from his hair. It falls to just above his shoulders. "Better?"

I laugh. "So what kind of venues do you do?"

"Parties, twenty-firsts, weddings—school dances, sometimes. I do a few clubs, as well. I'm flat-out most weekends."

"Sounds like it's booming," I acknowledge.

"Yeah..." He half shrugs. "You gonna set me up with Alice, or what?"

I scoff. "God, I'll think about it."

"Can I sweeten the deal?" He quirks a brow.

"What do you mean?"

Standing up, he shoves his hand into his front pocket; tugging out a small, navy-blue velvet pouch. "I've had this for a few years. I've been waiting to meet you to give it back to you," he explains, pulling it open and tipping its contents out into his palm.

He holds his hand out for me to see, and in immediate shock, my breath draws sharply.

It's my mother's diamond sapphire necklace.

"Where-where did you get that?" I demand, stammering; my voice almost failing.

My mother was never one for jewellery. She wore her wedding and engagement rings and a gold charm bracelet, but that was it—aside from this very necklace Jasper is holding out before me. It was the first gift my father had ever given to her, and it was important to her.

"My mother was forced to sell her assets to pay back my brother," Jasper discloses in a rush, obviously becoming uneasy by my reaction. "But this...I knew it belonged to your mother. My old lady threw a fit when she found out."

"He convinced her she lost it," I blurt, the emotion converging on me making my voice restrict. "He-he made her doubt herself!"

I still recall my mother's response when she realised it was gone, how upset she was, and how my father had bloody gaslighted her. When all along he'd given it to his mistress!

"Oh—Jesus. Shit, I'm sorry, Bella." His tone is anxious now, his expression flooding with regret, and after hastily shoving the necklace back into the pouch, he hands it to me.

I snatch it from him, before lunging to my feet and almost knocking my chair over backwards. "I have to go," I assert, throwing my bag over my shoulder.

"Bella..."

I shake my head. "I-I have to leave."

Turning, I shove my way through the packed rooftop of diners before stumbling down the stairs into the pub, calling Edward as I do.

"Edward!" I exclaim the instant he answers, breaking into sobs.

"Bella—Jesus—where are you?" he bursts.

"Can you come and get me!?" I plead with him.

"Okay, where are you, baby?"

"The Rocks—the-the Glenmore H-Hotel," I stutter; my airways are beginning to restrict.

"Bella!" Jasper is suddenly beside me before he wraps his arm around my shoulders.

I immediately jump, shrieking in fright before backing away from him. "Jasper—Christ! I-I can't do this right now!"

" _Bella_!?" Edward all but yells, while the anxiety behind his voice pulls my attention back to him. "I'm coming now—are you in trouble?"

"No." I shake my head.

"Okay, just stay put. I'll be there in ten minutes—stay on the phone with me."

"Shit, I'm sorry, Bella," Jasper says, holding up his hands to me while his eyes are beseeching. "I thought you'd want it back."

"I did—I do!" I reply. "I...I just..." I shake my head, unable to arrange my thoughts into anything coherent. "I just need to go home."

"Bella!?" Edward's voice blasts through the receiver again.

"E-Edward, I-I can't talk—just hurry!"

"I'll wait with you," Jasper insists, maintaining his distance from me. "Shit—are you okay? You're breathing funny."

My chest is restricting, but I'm barely aware of it. I'm being literally submerged by memories of my mother. Of how unhappy she was, of seeing her in tears almost every day of my life.

" _Find a man who will love and value who you are as a person, Bella. Not one who only sees your face, or your body. Or your bank account."_ She'd often pleaded with me after one of her many blowouts with my father.

That man suddenly pulls to a screeching stop in front of the hotel, before leaping from the car and striding towards me. His gaze catches mine and all I can see is that ridiculously handsome face of his overrun with so much pain and fear—something that only increases as he approaches me. While in his hand he clutches...an inhaler.

In the next instant I find myself against him, engulfed in his overly warm arms, before he pushes the inhaler between my parted lips.

"What did you do to her!?" he yells, and I feel his voice first vibrating from his chest, sounding almost like a growl. In fact, he sounds threatening, intimidating. It's not like him. At all.

"Nothing!" is Jasper's reply, and there's desperation in his tone.

I shake my head, but it feels heavy and disjointed, while my vision begins to fog around the periphery. "It's not his fault." My voice is weak; I'm too breathless to give it any volume.

Edward leads me to his car; his arms around me as if I might collapse, before practically hauling me off the ground to get me inside.

Leaning over me from the passenger side door, he buckles my seatbelt, before he stops and gazes at me.

"Bella, look at me."

I raise my eyes to meet his, and Christ, that intense gaze of his. It's so incongruous to such a sweet-natured person, but at the same time, it alludes to that depth about him that's not always evident.

Edward is a spring that wells deep.

"Try and calm down," he instructs me, his voice turning soft in his concern, and while one hand cups to my cheek, the other once again holds the inhaler to my mouth.

I take it from him, administering it into my stricken lungs myself. "I'm fine—can we just go?"

"I'm not taking you home yet until I'm sure you're breathing normally." His brow creases deeper, only sharpening the severity of his gaze, and I know arguing with him will be futile. I don't have the strength.

But I can't stay here. I can't be near a brother I did not grow up with—one who existed in the shadows of my father's secret life. A secret life that broke my mother's spirit long before her soul departed this world.

"Edward..." I sob, feeling myself sinking into a familiar darkness, "please get me out of here. _Please_."

* * *

 **A/N: Lemme know. Or not...  
**

* * *

 ***Agro - pissed off.**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone. I probably won't update chapter 20 until after but I hope you all have a good one. Thanks to everyone who left a review and/or added me to your alerts and faves, and to Kim for editing, and Sammy for her excessive declarations of love lol.  
Anywho, Edward meets Jasper. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 19**

 **Edward**

"Explain to me why we're here again?" I bend down to speak in Bella's ear to be heard above the music.

It's a rhetorical question; I haven't forgotten.

We're at the Chinese Laundry, an underground club on Sussex Street. I haven't been here since I was nineteen and now I remember why. It's dark, foggy and packed with mostly drunken teenagers and people in their early twenties.

Christ, and I'm pretty sure I've already spotted a couple of boys from school.

"Jasper DJs here," Bella rises on her toes to remind me.

Jasper.

It's been a month since her disastrous meet up with her brother. I knew it wasn't going to end well, but what could I do? Tell her not to go? I wouldn't do that, and I can't wrap her in cotton wool. So, I had no other option but to watch her come apart before my eyes.

It was the first time I've really seen her cry, and I didn't like it. I fucking detested it. It made me anxious, so anxious I couldn't properly comprehend it. I wanted to beat the shit out of her brother, but I couldn't. It wasn't his fault, after all.

Bella stopped all physical contact with him, and has only been chatting to him through Facebook. That's what she does. She's like a wave; she'll crash onto the shore and then immediately pull back, and she repeats that pattern until you don't know whether she's coming toward you or pulling away.

That's how she was with me in the beginning. She's not anymore, but I can see it in her interactions with others. She'll remain that way until she becomes comfortable.

It took her longer to reach out to Jasper again, though, but having a motive attached to it made it easier for her. She's setting him up with Alice, her friend from work, with the agreement that I'd be here with her, too. I would have come whether she wanted me to, or not.

This is my first time meeting Alice; despite how much Bella talks about her. It's my first time meeting Jasper, too. Officially, anyway.

Grabbing my hand, Bella pulls me further into the crowds toward the DJ set up at the far side of the basement.

I spot Jasper immediately. He's on the podium, headphones over his ears doing christ know what with the equipment, while moving his head to the beat of that bloody ridiculous techno music that feels like it's scraping the inside of my brain.

It's unnerving how much he looks like Bella. He's older than her by a couple of months, she informed me. Which makes her old man more of a bastard than I'd first thought.

He looks up and spots her as an immediate grin spreads across his face, and then motioning for a guy to take over for him, he steps down and makes his way toward us.

"Hey!" he yells into Bella's ear before pulling her into his arms. When he releases her he wraps an arm over her shoulders and leads her away from the noise of the stage.

Without letting go of my hand, Bella tugs me after her.

At the rear of the room is the bar and along the far corners leather seats align the walls. This is where he motions for Bella and me to wait for him.

I sit down, and Bella pulls herself on my lap.

"You're not too uncomfortable here, are you?" she asks me.

"No," I lie, flashing her a grin for added measure, but she only throws me an unconvinced look.

"You're a shitty liar, handsome," she murmurs against my ear this time. "We won't stay long," she adds after pulling back. "Just until Alice arrives and I can introduce them."

I nod and curl my arms around her waist. "Okay."

Releasing a hand from around my neck, she digs into her purse she has crossed over her shoulder and pulls out her inhaler.

"It's too smoky in here," she explains, after inhaling it back a few times and coughing into her closed fist.

"You going to be alright?"I angle my head closer to her and ask.

"For a little while—if Alice ever bloody gets here." She places her hands on the sides of my neck and face and kisses me, and then again before her lips move to my earlobe. "You know how many girls in here are checking you out?"

I grin, snorting it softly through my nose, when she once more places her mouth over mine.

"Oi!"

Bella pulls back and glances over her shoulder; her brother is standing before us carrying three large plastic cups of beer.

"Break it up," he says, smiling to himself like he's high or pissed, as Bella climbs off my lap.

She sits down on one side of me, and Jasper on the other. He hands me a beer; I pass it to Bella.

"Hey, good to finally meet you," he says, after offloading the second cup to me and thrusting out his hand.

I take it. "You, too."

"You were a bastard to bowl out," he adds.

I smirk. "You were a pretty decent spin bowler."

He wasn't really, but he was a couple of years younger than me, Emmett and Jake when we played against his school.

His grin broadens. "What to do you, Edward? Work for your old man?" He appears curious, but there's something mocking about his tone. It reminds me of Bella. Of Bella when she was _Library Girl_ in Year 10 at Sydney Grammar.

"My old man was a plumber," I state simply, deliberately avoiding his question, and smiling subtly to myself when his expression morphs into shock.

"Shit," he utters, before he starts laughing and shifts his gaze to Bella. "Hey, is Alice coming?"

"She's running late," Bella replies, leaning over me, her hand resting on my leg. "Do you have to work?"

"Nah, not 'til twelve." He shrugs, before taking a gulp from his beer.

"Once Alice arrives we're going to leave, okay?" she fills him in. "I can't stay here. It's messing with my asthma."

He nods. "No worries." Then setting his bleary gaze on me again, he nudges me with his elbow. "Hey, my sister's pretty hot, right?" he says covertly in my ear.

I pull back to gauge him. " _What_?"

He only laughs, and I can smell the pot on his breath. "Hey, I mean nothing by it, but it's true, right?"

Yeah, of course it's true, but it's not something he should be saying considering Bella's related to him. And, Christ, I hope for her sake he's not the idiot he appears to be.

Beside me, Bella coughs again, and when I turn to her, she's on her phone.

"Alice is a couple of minutes away," she explains, her gaze meeting mine. "I'm going to wait outside and meet her." I nod and she leans forward and kisses my lips quickly. "Stay here."

I watch her go, noticing the dozens of pairs of eyes that turn and follow her, as well. One arsehole looks like he's contemplating grabbing her arse, and I keep my eyes steeled to her in that black dress she's wearing—that's probably a little bit too revealing—until I lose sight of her.

Jasper grabs my shoulder. "Relax, mate. I get the impression our Bella can take care of herself."

 _Our Bella_? Does he think he has some kind of claim over her, now?

I shrug his hand from me and take a gulp of the beer in my hands.

"You don't like me, do you?" he asks, and christ he's just as blunt as Bella.

I turn to him and shrug an indifferent shoulder. "I don't know you, yet."

"Yeah, but I know you," he says cryptically, smirking to himself behind the cup he brings to his mouth.

"Do you?" I challenge him. "What do you know about me?"

He snorts, unconvinced. "Come on, mate. We all knew the Cullen boys. You two were notorious. I just don't want to see my sister get hurt, that's all." He swallows a mouthful of beer and turns his eyes away from me, his knee bouncing to the music.

I only gaze at him for a moment, attempting to work him out, and I really don't bloody appreciate the veiled threat he's just thrown at me.

"Bella knows all about how _notorious_ I was. We went to the same high school," I inform him; he turns to face me, surprised. "You're in her life for a month and now you think you have some kind of authority over her—is that it?"

He raises his hand, his palm facing me. "Nah, mate. I'm just looking out for her."

I snort sceptically. "You threw her mother's jewellery at her as an incentive to set you up with her friend—is that what you call _looking out for her_?"

His expression goes blank and his eyes widen, as he immediately shakes his head. "I-I didn't know she'd react that way," he insists as some kind of defence.

I scoff, because surely he's not that stupid. "Her father gave her mother's necklace to the whore he was fucking—you didn't think that'd upset her?"

"Hey, fuck you!" He shoves me, and I'm on my feet in an instant.

He smirks again before pulling himself casually off the seat to face me. "I'm the only family Bella has left. You forgotten that?" He raises his brow at me as if he's directly challenging me, but he doesn't bother me. What he _is_ doing, is pissing me off.

"Better make sure you're nothing like her old man, then. She despises him, alive or dead."

"You think I don't know she feels that way? I bet you don't know half the shit she's been through." He raises that fucking brow at me again, and almost on impulse, I ball my hands into fists.

"What the fuck is your game? What—are you after the rest of her money, is that it?"

He snorts loudly as though it were ridiculous. " _Money_? _What_ money? She's got no money. Her grandmother stole it from her—or didn't she tell you that?"

I pause, faltering for a moment, because she's barely spoken two words about her grandmother. But I'm still not convinced. "Bullshit. She lives in Crows Nest, for fucks sake."

"Yeah? Asked her how she can afford to live there?"

I'm immediately seeing red, and past the point of anger, I grab him by the collar of his shirt and drag him closer to me. "What the fuck does that mean?"

If he just said what I think he meant, I'll lay the bastard out flat, but before he can open his mouth to reply, a heavy hand falls to my shoulder, yanking me backward.

"Got a problem, mate?" A rough-sounding voice demands behind my ear.

Great it's a bouncer who's no doubt about to chuck my arse out.

"He's right, mate," Jasper speaks up. "He's just my sister's dick of a boyfriend."

"Behave ya fucking self," the bouncer threatens me, before shoving me forward.

I'm fuming, and needing to pull myself under control, I turn my back on Bella's fuckwit brother and sit down on the leather seating.

He sits beside me, leaning back as if nothing had happened.

"Mate..." he says like it was all a bloody joke, before laying his palm on my shoulder again.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" I snap, jerking him from me, and leaning forward, I grab the half full cup of beer; using it as a distraction

He laughs, spreading his legs on the seat as he lays himself further back. "Why don't you use your rich boy influence and get me sacked?"

I laugh dryly in return. "You know fuck-all about me," I mutter, taking a gulp of beer and slamming the cup back to the table.

"Get real. You forget I went to school with you lot. You're all the bloody same." He angles himself to face me. "You're probably fucking five other girls as well as Bella, aren't you?"

I scoff beneath my breath and shake my head to myself, but I don't reply, because fuck this guy and his bullshit.

A couple of minutes later Bella reappears with a dark-haired girl beside her. Her eyes meet mine and a smile warms her face before it almost immediately fades. I hastily force the smile to my lips in return, but I'm pretty certain I wan't quick enough and she saw my expression. But then, Bella doesn't miss much.

She leads her friend to me first, and in anticipation, I pull myself to my feet.

"Edward, this is Alice. Alice, Edward," Bella makes the introductions.

Alice flashes me a friendly smile and holds out her hand. "Hi, Edward."

The first thing I notice is that she's a world too good for Bella's brother.

"Nice to meet you, Alice," I reply, taking her hand and drawing her closer to me before bending down to kiss her cheek.

It's obvious she wasn't expecting it. She turns to Bella, a blush working up her neck when Bella explains, "Vaucluse etiquette, darling."

The smug little prick beside me openly snorts, and I get the impression he thinks Bella's mocking me. It's proof he knows nothing about either of us, and shoving my hands in my front pockets I silently fume to myself.

Bella introduces him to Alice next, and I watch smirking secretly to myself as Jasper turns to piss before my eyes. He's grinning like a moron before he starts stuttering; his ears turning a deep red.

Alice appears pretty receptive to him, and they chat further when Bella pulls my hand from my pocket and takes it in her own.

"Well, have fun, guys—we're off," she announces.

"Already?" Alice replies, turning to her and sounding apprehensive, and I can't say I blame her.

"The fog machines in here are killing me. They make it hard to breathe," Bella explains and releasing me she moves forward to embrace her.

Then Jasper's pulling her in to hug her, and I immediately go tense. I don't fucking like it.

He turns to me then, that smug grin remaining on his face, before he thrusts out his hand again. "Later, Edward."

I deliberately ignore it, flashing him a smart arse smile instead. Bella's brother or not, I refuse to touch him.

"Fair enough." He shrugs, before releasing his outstretched hand and running it through his hair.

I turn to Bella and offer her my hand. "Ready to go?"

She gazes up at me, her forehead knotting and her expression troubled, but she takes it. Then turning back to Alice and her brother, she holds up her hand in farewell and we make our way to the exit.

I don't look back.

"Okay, what the bloody hell happened?" she demands once we're out on the street, before pulling her hand from mine and stopping to face me.

"Nothing," I mumble lowly, avoiding her gaze.

"On what side of Idiot Street do you think I just walked down?" she asks sarcastically.

I return my hands to my pockets and shrug, my eyes on the concrete beneath my feet.

"Christ, you're not going to get all sullen on me, are you?" she replies, her voice taking on an edge of impatience.

"What do you want me to say?" I burst frustrated, because this bullshit with her brother was always going to come back on the two of us, and it pisses me off.

"Um, I don't know. Maybe 'I met your brother and he's a dickhead'?"

"I met your brother and he's a dickhead."

"So, what happened?" She's calmer, resigned, and as she expels the air from her lungs it's obvious she's disheartened.

I pause for moment, debating with myself whether I should fill her in when I decide to just cave. "He thought the same thing you did about me in your car in Newtown, only he wasn't as fucking nice about it."

She sighs again, and this time she drops her forehead to her palm. "What did he say?"

"Why don't you ask him?—Since you've obviously got no problem spilling your guts to him." And fuck, I regret those words the instant they leave my mouth.

"Are you bloody shitting me?" she snaps pissed off but in disbelief. "So, you have a fight with my brother and now you're going to take it out on me?"

"Jesus," raising my hand I drag my fingers over my forehead with impatience, "I'm not taking _anything_ out on you! Look, you can see that smug little bastard all you want. Just don't expect me to!"

"What the hell did he say to you?!" she suddenly yells, attracting the attention of half of Sussex Street in the process.

Taking a stiff breath, I force myself to calm, but it's no good. I'm angry. "Aside from accusing me of fucking around on you, he warned me I should watch my fucking step because ' _he's your only relative'_ "—I quote him with my fingers—"and I'm just a rich boy who knows fuck-all about you!"

Her eyes widen, her mouth falls open, and for a moment she doesn't say anything. She's hurt, but she's also angry, and as she continues to stare at me, her eyes steadily well in tears.

" _What_?" she eventually asks, her voice falling just higher than a whisper.

"Hey..." I say, immediately remorseful before reaching out to take her hand; attempting to pull her to me but she refuses to budge. "I'm-I'm sorry, Bella."

Shaking her head, she pulls her hand free, before she's suddenly fumbling to unzip her bag. She grabs her phone from within and clicking it open she places it to her ear. Her hands are beginning to shake, and her face is flushed, and while it's obvious she's angry, the primary emotion she's trying to hide is pain.

Christ, what the hell have I done?

"Bella," I appeal to her, attempting to take her phone from her but she immediately stumbles back away from me. "Shit..." I murmur to myself.

"Jasper!?" she hollers after he obviously picks up, her voice hard. I've never heard it like this before. "If you do not apologise to Edward this bloody instant, I will cut you off and pretend you don't exist— _AGAIN_. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"

Jesus, she's beginning to wheeze, and before she can move to avoid me, I grab her around the waist and take the phone from her hand.

Her brother's voice is rambling from the receiver, and after placing the phone to my ear I cut him off, "Look, just forget tonight ever happened." And before he can respond I hang up.

Bella's digging around clumsily in her bag again, for her inhaler I gather, and pulling the spare from my pocket I place it in her hands.

She draws it into her lungs several times as I pull her against my chest. She immediately crushes herself to me, before stretching on her toes to wrap her arms around my neck; her entire body shaking uncontrollably against mine.

"Christ, I'm so sorry, baby!" I plead with her, feeling like the giant fucking prick I am.

"No, Edward!" she sobs, shaking her head. "You have no r-reason to be sorry."

"I should have let it go," I admit. It was bloody infantile of me to let Bella get caught in the middle; it was my pride that caused this.

She continues to shake her head, and I lead her toward a bench by a nearby bus stop; sitting her down.

She's crying openly, her breath shuddering behind it, and the more she wipes her eyes the more hers tears fall. "I...I guess I'm just...n-not meant t-to have f-family," she stammers, and Christ, she's really beginning to tear my heart out.

"But you have me," I promise her, pressing my lips to the top of her head and tightening my arms around her small shoulders.

"I haven't got anyone," she whispers, her voice completely breaking.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading. You can leave a review, or not. It's all good.**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Hey, hope you guys all had a great Christmas, and happy almost 2019.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 20**

 **Bella**

Edward asks me his first question: what was my grandmother like. I'm not an idiot. I know he's only asking because Jasper got in his head.

This guy of mine, dense, adorable and criminally handsome. I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do with him. Loving him is easy, but it's leaving me vulnerable. My bloody shrink is right; you don't get to choose the emotions you let in when you open your heart to someone.

Edward is a constant reminder of a decision I made ten years ago that determined the outcome of my life. I've been ignoring it, or I've been trying to anyway, but it's stayed at the back of my mind; ceaselessly bloody whispering to me. It mostly happens in the early hours of the morning, when dark thoughts have a habit of creeping into your head.

Christ, I wish I could sleep.

I suppose I'm going to have to deal with it at some point; I'm just not sure how, or what the end result will be.

Despite all that, me and handsome are still going strong; some days are shit and other days I really believe I'm past all that crap. I meant what I'd told him, though; I don't want him going anywhere.

Bloody Jasper. He's lucky I didn't kick his bony arse for what he'd said to Edward. He rocked up to my house later that night and I thought Edward was going to kill him.

It was a bloody turn on, witnessing Edward so angry—even when he was yelling at me. It was a refreshing change to see him as anything other than Mr Apology. It was good to see him put up a fight, because he's so passive sometimes I worry about him.

I'd hoped I could get rid of Jasper and get Edward in the sack for some angry sex, but once Jasper left Edward was back to apologising and blaming himself. I yelled at him. I told him to "grow a bloody spine", and then I felt like a complete bitch.

I always told myself the man I'd marry would be the complete opposite of my father, and here he is, all six foot two of him. So, what am I complaining about? I got what I wanted. I guess I wasn't quite ready for how someone the polar opposite of my father would unravel my heart.

Charles Swan sealed my heart closed, and Edward Cullen has cracked it open, and therein lies the problem.

They do have one thing in common though, my father and Edward; a gaze so intense it stops you in your tracks. My father's, dark and intimidating, alluded to his callous, cold heart, but Edward's is a testament to the depth of his, and his pain.

Christ, I love him. It bloody scares me to death. What if something happens to him? How would I survive that?

I apologised to Edward for calling him spineless. He apologised to me. I told him if he kept apologising my hand would become my teeth and I'd bite him somewhere really sensitive. A small smile tugged at his lips and his eyes turned dark. We had sex, he apologised, I followed through on my promise and he almost propelled the both of us off my bed, but I'd successfully rid Jasper from his mind.

Or so I thought.

It's a week later when he asks me that first question.

We're at his place in the family room, playing strip poker. It was my idea. Jake has taken Nessie away for the weekend, so we've got the house to ourselves.

There's certain advantages to concealing his thoughts behind those steely eyes of his. He's got a good poker face. I'm down to my bra and knickers; he's only removed his shoes and socks.

"I'll raise my jeans for both your bra and undies," he says slyly, grinning to himself behind his hand of cards.

"Deal," I agree, and I'm pretty confident.

"What have you got?" And so is bloody he.

"Flush," I announce triumphantly, placing my five hearts on the coffee table.

He pauses and eyes me for a moment, and with his grin widening he reveals his hand. "Full House, gorgeous—now strip!"

"Christ!" I exclaim, and he laughs.

"Well, I'm waiting..." He arches a brow for me to get on with it.

"Are you bloody cheating?" I demand, reaching behind my back to unclasp my bra, and struggling with it.

"Stop stalling!"

"I'm bloody not," I protest, begrudgingly; removing my bra and throwing it at him.

He catches it, continuing to laugh. "And the rest."

Huffing to myself, I get to my feet and slowly inch my undies down; watching with a small smile as his expression slackens and his eyes darken.

I sit myself back down on the floor beside the coffee table where we're playing. It's the end of March and it's not as warm as it has been; my bloody nipples are turning to granite. Grabbing the cards, I shuffle them and deal them between us. Edward picks his cards up first, his poker face remaining intact, before I do, and I have to fight to keep the smirk from spreading across my face.

I have four Queens.

He discards two cards, I discard one. Since I'm naked and have no more clothes to remove, Edward has to play for where we're having sex. Or what he wants me to do to him.

"In the shower," he says.

I snort. "Boring—all your clothes."

"At once?" He quirks a brow.

"At once."

"You sure? That's a big raise." He sounds bloody cocky.

"I'm sure."

"Okay..." he murmurs, his smile inching wider, his eyes zeroing in on my boobs, "but if I win you have to wear those high heels of yours."

"In the shower?" I ask, dubiously. "You going to buy me more?"

"I'll buy you whatever you want."

"God, you're so kinky, Edward," I tease him, because he's as bloody tame as a rabbit.

"Okay, what have you got?" he asks.

I reveal my hand on the table slowly, deliberately.

"Not bad..." And he's fighting the urge to laugh.

"Off with it all," I instruct him.

"Hang on a sec." He lays his cards down and the grin immediately fades from my face.

Four Kings.

"Oh my bloody god!" I burst in disbelief. "You're cheating!"

"How could I have cheated? You were dealing!" he insists, that smile reforming across his face again, and Christ he's gorgeous—even more so when he's confident.

High heels in the shower isn't a bad idea. I don't have to exhaust myself stretching up as much to close the height difference between us, or exhaust Edward as he holds me up so I don't injure him.

He hitches my leg around his hips, his other hand splayed on the wall beside my head, bracing himself so he doesn't collide with me too roughly. I swear, sometimes, this man thinks I'm made of glass, and he can still be so uncoordinated. Whether he knows it or not it causes him to be rougher than what he'd otherwise be. So, I'm not about to fill him in.

Despite his rock hard form as it repeatedly pushes into me, there's something to be said about hot water running between two bodies and into your mouth; and Edward's dripping wet face dragging over mine. Or his hair as the shower turns it dark chestnut; his hair that I lose my fingers in before grabbing fistfuls of it to keep him anchored to me.

And there's definitely something to be said about a ridiculously gorgeous man declaring his undying love, while apologising simultaneously in a breathless, almost primitive, voice that begins to fail him.

Edward has a smoothness to his deep voice anyway, but taint it with arousal and I could close my eyes and listen to it forever.

Afterward, he holds me up against the tiled wall, his chest rising and falling against mine. His body is beginning to unlock, and he drops his face against mine. I kiss him. Taking his damp, pliable, ridiculously hot lips between my own several times, before I trail them to his forehead. The vein running down the centre bulges alarmingly, and I can feel the swiftness of his pulse against my flesh.

"Bella..." he utters, as he attempts to catch his breath; his voice adorably throaty, and I can hear the smile in it.

I hum out my reply softly.

"It was Gala Day today, and I'm buggered. You have to let me sleep for a while."

It's Friday. He's alluding to the fact that on Fridays we have sex three times, and after five months this poor handsome man still isn't acclimatised to it, yet.

"All right," I murmur kissing him one last time, before he helps me out of the shower. I'm slipping and sliding all over the place in my bloody heels.

Using Edward to steady myself, I raise my foot and reach behind me to pull off my heel, and then the other. Edward wraps a giant towel around the both of us, before hoisting me off the ground and carrying me to his bed.

I tangle myself against his damp body, and he wraps an arm around me, burying his nose against my hair.

"Bella?" he mumbles, sounding moments from sleep.

"Hmm...?" I run my fingers through the light covering of hair scattered across his chest.

"What was your grandmother like?"

I pause, attempting to ward off the almost instinctive way my body tenses in response.

"Like my father." Is how I decide to answer, because nothing is truer.

"Was she horrible to you?" he presses, his tone dropping as if he's knowingly treading carefully around me.

"What did Jasper tell you?" I ask, while recapping the conversation I had with my half-brother several weeks ago back through my mind. What did I tell him about my grandmother? I was certain it wasn't much, at all.

"Nothing," he mumbles, and Christ, he's a terrible liar.

Propping myself up on his chest, I meet his gaze. "Really?" I say doubtfully, because I know he's lying and he knows I know.

"Bella..."

"What—you think I could tell him things and not you?" I'm becoming too defensive, which only makes me appear guilty.

"I didn't say that." He sighs. "Don't put words in my mouth."

"Well, don't lie to me," I counter.

He draws in a heavy breath and when he releases it he sounds frustrated. "You're doing my bloody head in."

"I told Jasper a few sketchy details, but nothing more. He was just being a prick," I explain to him, and it's me this time who's pissed off.

He's only my brother, so why the hell did he attempt to get into a bloody pissing contest with Edward?

"He told me your grandmother stole all your money," Edward relents and tells me the truth.

" _What_?" I snap. "I never told him that, at all—Christ!"

"I'm sorry..."

"Edward!" I deliberately warn him, because I'm on the verge of losing my patience with him.

"Bella..." he half sits himself up against the wall, "why won't you open up to me? I'd rather hear it from you."

"Okay, one—I never told him my grandmother stole my money, and two, I don't want to bloody talk about it," I blurt, feeling the emotion steadily accumulate in my throat. "What bloody good will it do me—huh? Do you want to tell me about all the crappy, abusive things your mother did to you?"

"Hey," his voice turns soft and placating. "Bella, calm down. I just...I just thought it'd help me understand you better, that's all."

I huff, and I'm more frustrated at myself than I am at him. "There's plenty of time—bloody hell!"

"Okay..." he tightens his arms around me, tucking me under his chin. "Just forget I said anything."

But I can't.

"Did you wonder how I could afford my house?" I push back off his chest roughly, and accuse him. "Did you think I fucked my boss for it, too?"

"Hey!" The tone of his voice rises and I'm not sure whether he's hurt by what I said or offended. "How did...did Jake tell you that?"

"No, it was Ness."

"Fuck sake," he mutters bitterly. "He shouldn't have bloody said anything. He's a fucking dickhead sometimes."

"Is that what you thought?" my voice drops to a whisper, because I can't bare the idea of it.

"Of course I didn't," he insists, but I'm not so sure.

"My grandmother stole half of my inheritance and what I had left was enough to pay for my house—and I've never had sex with my boss. Christ!"

"Bella," he raises his hand to cup my cheek, "I swear to you, I've never believed that about you." He's serious, his voice pleading with me to believe him.

I bite down on my bottom lip in a feeble attempt to keep the tears gathering in my throat at bay, before pulling my eyes from his. I'm crying all the bloody time, lately, in front of Edward most especially. I can't prevent it anymore.

"Do you believe me?" he asks, running his thumb over my cheek bone.

"Yeah," I relent in a mumble.

"Promise me?"

Expelling my breath, I allow myself to relax back against him, my forehead resting with his. "I promise I believe you, but no more white lies to protect me, okay?"

"Deal." The smile breaks out across his face again and he visibly relaxes.

"Kiss me," I mumble.

He does, lifting his head off the wall to merge his lips with mine several times. "All right, now give me a couple of hours, okay?" And stretching himself out, he lays back down against the mattress, pulling me closer to his body warmth and closing his eyes.

I lull him off to sleep by running my fingers through his hair and over his forehead.

"Edward...?"

He takes a drowsy breath and releases it into an unintelligible mumble.

"I love you," I whisper.

"Love...you..." he replies only half coherently, and half asleep. "I'm...sorry..."

A laugh bursts from me, something I immediately muffle through my nose, even as tears spring to my eyes. Stretching myself up, I plant my lips to his still-damp forehead, before snuggling against his chest.

I realise I've got to stop getting angry at him for apologising. I have to stop bringing it to his attention and making him conscious of it. It's not fair to him; especially, when he's the first one to overlook any defect in my personality that was brought about by my past.

He's taken me on, scars and all, and he's stopped pressuring me to reveal those scars. He deserves the same courtesy from me in return.

I'm tired, and expelling the air from my lungs, I carefully pull myself from him and lay my head against his spare pillow. He immediately rolls himself over and spoons me to him. I close my eyes and fall asleep to feel of his heated breath washing against the back of my neck.

I wake again, not long after, sitting upright in bed, drenched in sweat with my chests heaving back and forth.

I've had a particularly nasty dream of the sound and smell of twisting metal, and of blood; a lot of blood covering the mangled bodies of my brothers. Of my mother.

"My…my p-purse," I utter, gasping for breath, while one hand clamps to my chest, and the other over my head in a feeble effort to shield myself.

Edward is immediately beside me, his arms circling around me. "Hey, hey..." His voice is still rustic from sleep, but flooding with the same anxiety I hear in it too often now. "It was just a dream, baby. It was just a dream."

"My p-purse, Edward!" I blurt out, shaking my head, and I feel like I'm trapped in the plain between being asleep and awake. The panic coursing through me is still very real, even though I'm fully aware I was dreaming. "I-I left it at M-McDonald's!"

Edward pulls me further to him, my inhaler in his hand that he places in my mouth. I grab it from him, but don't use it, continuing to shake my head adamantly.

"I left m-my p-purse," I repeat, my breath beginning to shudder. I'm glancing around hastily, my panic growing; though, I'm unaware of what I'm looking for.

"It wasn't real, Bella," he attempts to soothe me, his voice becoming firmer, while he runs his hands up and down my arms.

"It _was_ real!" I cry. "It was real. I left my purse!" A clarity is beginning to settle over me, a revelation I've been denying the existence of for a decade. A revelation that has the power to take me straight back to the darkness I once found myself in.

"Bella, listen to me." His voice hardens this time, and he shakes me, before clamping his hands to both sides of my face, forcing my gaze to meet his. "You were dreaming. It wasn't real."

The tears have already burned their way up my throat, but I'm not aware of them until they're spilling down my face. "It was real, Edward," I sob. "I left my purse, my-my father had to go back and get it. If he didn't we would have been an hour further along down the highway—"

Edward's eyes begin to burn with recognition; he knows what I'm trying to say, and he immediately cuts me off. " _Stop_! Christ, Bella, you can't do that. You can't blame yourself."

"No..." I attempt to move his hands from me; I can't look at him. I opened up to him before I was barely aware of it, and the shame is suddenly too much to bear.

Releasing me he pulls me to his chest, his hand at the back of my neck as he holds me to him. I close my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart, as the tears fall from me and spill onto his skin.

"You had no idea what was going to happen. No one does. You _cannot_ do that to yourself," he insists, and the sound of his voice is dire. "Bella...Jesus, don't go down that road."

Placing my palms to his chest, I shove off him, and attempt to wipe my eyes dry. It's no use; they're bloody flowing from me like a crack in a well.

"I lied to you, Edward," I admit, my chest jerking uncontrollably.

He's shaking his head, slowly, even as confusion knots in his brow. "How...?"

"I didn't have to go to my brother's swim-meet. My father, he-he told me I should stay home and study. If I-I didn't go—"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bella!" he explodes and it's pain that reflects most in his voice, in those intense eyes of his. "What good will blaming yourself do? _Huh_? Do you think they're sitting up there blaming you? Do you think they want you to torture yourself like this?"

I shake my head again, the tears blinding my vision and aching in my chest. "I don't...know how...to feel..."

* * *

 ***Gala Day - all-day sporting event where several schools play off against others.**

* * *

 **A/N: Yeah, she's close to cracking. Thanks for reading, and to Kimmie45 for making sense of my wordiness.  
xoxo**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hey. Hope everyone had an awesome Christmas and New Year. Gawd, I suck at author's notes, but thanks to everyone for getting on board, and to Kimmie45, of course, because she's gorge (aside from being my beta), and to SammyHale who's always here for me even while she's growing a human.  
Hope you enjoy. **

* * *

**Vertigo**

 **Chapter 21**

 **Edward.**

The only thing that gives me bloody comfort at the moment is knowing Bella's in therapy. She goes twice a week; Mondays and Thursdays after work.

Sometimes I meet her after on a Thursday and we have dinner. She's always pretty chill after, and I can relax knowing that while she won't let me in to help her, at least she's getting it from a professional.

Still, I don't know what to do for her. I'm beginning to feel not only really bloody helpless, but in constant panic that everything's going to go south without any warning. I need to know how to pull her out of it if it does. I need some kind of reassurance.

She blames herself for what happened to her family. That's obvious now, and it doesn't matter how irrational it is; I can see it in her eyes, twisting her up inside. She hasn't been the same since that night. She doesn't talk as much as she did, nor does she smile a lot anymore. It feels like a dark cloud is hanging over her, and she's drifting further and further away.

It happened gradually; I didn't notice it as first, but now, barely a month later I see her and I barely recognise her from the girl I first took out. She's not sleeping, and her eyes, that are deep anyway, now look tortured. All I can bloody think about is how she was suicidal, and I worry she still is. But it's not as if I can bring it up. She shuts me down the moment I do. She does give me bits and pieces of information about her, but it's always only half the puzzle. That's when I decide; I'm going to go back and see my shrink. I need some strategies to deal with her, to help her.

I call Dr Jenks' office to book an appointment. Unusually it can take months to get in to see him, but in a stroke of luck, and after a spate of recent cancellations, I'm scheduled in for the following week.

He's happy to see me and as he ushers me into his office he asks me how I'm doing.

"I'm good. I'm not actually here to see you about me, but my girlfriend..."

"Oh?" he ventures, sitting in his chair opposite me and picking up his pen.

I explain Bella's situation to him, starting from what happened to her family before I describe her behaviour over the last several weeks. This is when he raises his finger to stop me.

"This girl you're seeing... It wouldn't happen to be Isabella Dwyer, would it?"

I pause for a moment. "What...? You mean...Bella's your patient?"

With his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, he drops his head to massage his forehead with his fingers—as if he suddenly needs a stiff drink. I don't take it as a bloody good sign.

"So _you're_ Bella's Edward," he says after gazing up at me again, his expression almost ironic.

"She talks about me...?"

He raises his hand again, palm facing me. "I can't discuss her with you, Edward."

"Okay, but Christ, just tell me how to help her," I say probably too desperately, but it's a relief knowing I have a connection to her. Even if he can't tell me any details of what she's going through.

"How you help her?" He inches forward to the edge of his chair and props his elbows on his knees. "For one, you don't treat her like she's going to break. Don't be afraid to force her to face certain things and don't fear her anger. She has a habit of repressing it," he stops abruptly as if catching himself.

"She won't talk to me. She shuts herself off."

"I can tell you this, Bella's quite attached to you, and for too long she hasn't had anyone to fight for her," he explains.

"So...what do I do...?"

"Push her. If she pushes back, then you push harder. She has to realise talking about what happened to her won't be the apocalypse she thinks it will. Just understand your limits as well as hers."

I nod, but Christ...it won't be bloody easy. If I know Bella, she'll put up a fight.

"It will test your relationship, Edward. I hope you're prepared for that."

"I know...but she's worth it," I murmur, my eyes on the floor.

He clears his throat. "I'd like you to keep this meeting from her, for now. You know how... _spirited_ she is." I get the impression it wasn't the word he wanted to use, but I get his meaning.

"Yeah, I do," I smile to myself, almost scoffing. "Can you tell me one thing?"

"That depends on what it is."

"Is she in danger of...hurting herself?"

He stares at me for a moment, his expression serious, before he drops his head and rubs his forehead again. "Yes," he answers quietly and the blood in my veins turns to fucking ice.

"Shit..." I mutter. "Has she tried to...before?"

"Edward..." he warns me, shaking his head, and I huff shortly in frustration.

"Well—what the hell am I supposed to do?" I feel bloody sick.

"Be there for her, even when she doesn't want you around. Be ready when she wants to open up and talk, and push her to open up to you if you see her sliding back. Believe me, you won't kill her by trying."

I take a breath, expelling it bloody wearily and dragging my fingers through my hair. "Jesus..."

He's quite for a while, observing me while I turn myself inside bloody out.

"I'm glad you came to see me, Edward," he eventually says, flashing me a quick smile that makes me believe that Bella's not the bloody train wreck I'm beginning to think she is.

"Yeah..." I mumble, but I'm done. I pull myself to my feet. "Thanks." I extend my hand to him and he takes it.

I leave knowing one thing; if I want Bella, I'm going to have to fight for her. She hasn't had anyone to fight for her in a while?

Well, now she bloody has.

After stepping in the elevator and pressing the button to go down to the underground carpark, I pull my phone from my pocket and switch it back on.

I've missed a call from her, and I immediately call her back.

"Hey, handsome," she says warmly. She doesn't call me _darling_ much anymore.

"Hey, sorry, Bella. I was in the shower," I lie.

"No worries."

"What's up?"

"I want to ask you something..." she sounds cryptic. And guilty.

"About Jasper?" it's not hard to bloody guess.

"Yeah..."

I sigh. "Bella..."

"He really wants to see you and apologise."

"He already has." He's sent me a hundred bloody texts messages after Bella gave him my number. I've ignored all of them.

"You didn't even read them," she calls me out.

I laugh, but relent, because I'm about to put my shrink's advice into action and give her a hard time. "What do you want to ask?"

"Dinner, and I'll be there." She sounds hopeful, and I know I'm always going to cave.

"Christ...all right. You set something up."

"See, this is why I love you." She's instantly brighter.

"Sucking up to me's not always going to work, you know," I say wryly.

"I'm sure I can think of something else that will," she teases me and I laugh again, softly.

The elevator opens to the garage, and pulling my keys from my pocket, I unlock my car.

"What are you doing?" she asks, obviously hearing the beep of my alarm.

"Getting something out of my car."

"What?"

"Christ, you're nosey—my charger," I quickly bullshit, and opening my car door, I climb in. I don't start the engine; she'll more than likely hear and have more questions.

"Fair enough..."

"Bella...?"

"Yeah."

"How are you sleeping?"

She's quiet for a moment, before answering, "About the same."

"Why don't you see a doctor about taking something?" I suggest.

"Christ, no," she says immediately. "Those things are addictive."

"Take a Phenergan—they'll knock you out."

She scoffs. "Yeah, for three bloody days."

I sigh, because she's as bloody stubborn as a mule. "I was thinking..."

"About...?"

"We should talk." Christ, I feel like holding my breath.

"Talk about...what?" She's suspicious.

"Just...whatever you want to talk about."

"Edward..." She takes a heavy breath that sounds just as deliberate.

"Bella, you need to open up more to me. I'm not asking you to tell me everything at once, just to trust me enough if you want to talk."

"I don't want to talk, yet," she mumbles, and she's uncomfortable, but fuck it.

"I don't believe you."

"Where's this coming from?" she suddenly demands.

"You know where it's coming from. I'm bloody worried about you."

"I just...I just have shit days," is her explanation, and she doesn't sound bloody convincing.

"I don't want you blaming yourself. No more. I mean it, Bella."

"I don't..."

"Yes you do."

"I don't want to talk about this," she says abruptly.

"Okay, if you won't talk to me, I won't meet your brother."

"Hey!" she protests, and she's not impressed. "Don't push me, Edward."

"I think you need to be pushed."

"Why are you talking like this all of a sudden?"

"Why?" I say, seriously. "Because I'm sick to fucking death of watching you twist yourself into a knot while I stand around doing nothing."

"I'm not twisting into a knot," she insists weakly, because even she doesn't believe that.

"Bella, come on—fuck sake..."

"I'm pretty sure you're breaking ten of my rules."

"Yeah, well, I'm not playing by those rules anymore," I admit, quietly, because I'm not.

"Christ!"

"Bella..."

"—I'm going!"

" _Hey_! If you fucking hang up on me, I'll be on your doorstep in thirty seconds," I threaten her, and I'm deadly fucking serious.

She's quiet for the longest time, when she speaks up in a timid voice, "Edward...?"

"What?"

"You haven't apologised to me once."

"...Was I supposed to?"

"I don't know—Christ! Are possessed, or something?"

"You want me to come around?" I offer.

"...Are you threatening me?"

I laugh. "No, you goose. Just to talk."

She expels a heavy breath again, and then another, before she finally caves. "Okay, but not tonight. Tomorrow?"

"Righto." And shit, I'm surprised by how easy that was.

"Where are you?"

"Sitting in my car?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?—I'm talking to you."

"I mean, why in your car and not your house?"

"Jesus—are you trying to change the subject?"

"No, I said you can come around tomorrow. Don't push your bloody luck."

"Okay, baby. I'll see you tomorrow," I say warmly, releasing my breath in relief.

"Hey?"

"Yeah?"

"If we're going to do this, it's quid pro quo, okay?"

"...What do you want in return...?" I ask immediately cynical, because with Bella it could be anything.

"I want you to make me scream so loud you'll make my neighbours blush," she answers, her voice dropping.

"Christ, Bella..." I utter, my bloody mouth going dry. "You're doing my head in."

She laughs. "See you tomorrow, handsome."

 **. . .**

Bella's work schedule changes from one day to the next, so she doesn't always get home at the same time. For me, unless there's a staff meeting, I'm usually home by four.

She messages me at just after five to tell me she's home, and I'm half way to her house, when some asshole rear-ends me on Military Road and almost pushes me onto the A1 freeway.

It's an old bugger easily in his eighties. I get out and make sure he's okay, before giving him my insurance details. He's pretty shaken and after putting him at ease, I call in a tow. My car looks bloody written off.

With the peak hour traffic there's delays. At least a half an hour, I'm informed. Bella's expecting me, but it's not as if I can tell I've just been in an accident. I know I'll have to make something up, and I call her a few minutes later when I've worked out what.

"Hey, baby... Listen, I'm going to be a bit late—my bloody car was stolen."

"What?" she says in disbelief. "From your garage?"

"I left it out on the driveway."

"Christ."

"Yeah... I'm just waiting for the cops to get here to give a statement and I'll be right over."

"You want me to pick you up?"

Fuck!

"No, it's okay. I'll get Jake to drop me off."

"Sure?"

"It's fine, Bella—really."

"Okay, then. See you soon."

I chat to the old bloke until the tow trucks arrive, and after filling out my information, I walk the half a kilometre back home.

Jake's home from work, thank Christ.

"Hey, can you give me a lift to Bella's? I ask him, sticking my head around his bedroom door, and before he can open his mouth, I fill him in. "I was rear-ended."

"Shit—okay, no worries. Just give a moment to get changed."

I text Bella to let her know I'm on my way, and before I exit Jake's car in front of her house, I turn to him. "If Bella asks, my car was stolen—so if you open your big mouth to your girlfriend again, get the story straight."

"Geez, all right, mate. But what if she finds out?"

I snort, before grabbing the handle and pulling the door open. "How will she find out?"

Bella opens the door in her flannel pyjamas, her hair loose around her shoulders. "Hey, handsome," she says brightly, before intercepting my greeting by turning her head to kiss my lips.

"Hey," I say softly, but I suddenly feel like a prick for lying to her. I'm forced to remind myself how she'd more than likely freak out if she knew I was in an accident, just to push back my guilt.

Grabbing my hands, she pulls me inside where I'm immediately greeted by Oppa.

"Want a coffee?" she asks me over her shoulder as she heads toward the kitchen.

"Yeah," I answer before heading into the lounge room and sitting down on her sofa.

Her fireplace is on, and the room is warm.

She returns a couple of minutes later, shuffling into the room in her Uggs, and setting two mugs on the coffee table.

"So," she says after flopping down on the lounge beside me, and tucking her legs beneath herself. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know, just talk," I reply, turning to her.

"You start." She reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear.

"Tell me about your nightmares."

"No," she says immediately, the tone of her voice dropping. "Why validate them? They're only nightmares."

"Okay...tell me about your grandmother."

She takes a breath, as if steeling herself, while breaking her eyes from mine for a moment. "She's an evil old witch who took advantage of me when I was at my darkest point in time, to get to my father's money—and that's all I'm saying about her."

"Christ, Bella. I'm sorry."

A smile lightens her face and she arches her brow at me, bringing it to my attention.

"I mean, I'm sorry for what happened to you—not just because I say it too bloody much."

"I know what you meant," she says in a soft voice, before inching closer to me to trace her finger along my jaw.

"What's going on with you?" I ask seriously, grabbing her hand. It's distracting me and I get the impression that's exactly what her intention is.

She shrugs. "I just...I have bad days, that's all."

"You started talking to me about your past and then you stopped," I point out.

"I know..."

Why don't you feel comfortable talking to me anymore?" I bring her hand to my lips.

"It's just hard to talk about."

"You can tell me anything, Bella."

"Edward..." she complains.

"I can see what bottling it up is doing to you," I say, gently.

"I know," she concedes, looking away from me again. "Everything with you is...different."

"...What?—I mean, _how_...?" I ask her, uncertain of her meaning.

"Because..." she turns to meet my gaze again, her expression looking resigned, or maybe defeated, "you make me feel more than what I was expecting."

"What do I make you feel?"

"Too much."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"It shouldn't be, but for me it is..." she murmurs, pulling her eyes from me again, as her brow knots heavily.

"Why, Bella? Help me understand." And reaching out, I take her chin and guide her eyes back to mine.

She immediately grabs my hand to prevent me, and she's beginning to look frustrated. "Because I opened my heart up all the way for you, Edward. I didn't want to, but you made me, and a lot more than just you got in."

I sigh and drop my chin to my chest for a moment, because this is exactly what I've been suspecting for months. "You closed you heart so you wouldn't have to feel the pain of what happened. Is that right?"

She nods, and leans against me further to idly trace the buttons on my shirt with her finger.

"And when you started feeling something for me, it let in all those other feelings, about your past, too? The ones you wanted to keep buried?"

"See? You already know this about me," her voice suddenly wavers, "so please stop..."

"Bella, look at me." Cupping my hand to her face I coax her once more to meet my gaze; she allows me to this time, reluctantly. "It's hurting you more when you don't talk about it."

She shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears. "There's nothing I can do. I just have to get past it, but it's just...it's too much."

"What is?"

"You—you make me feel _too_ much. I-I don't know...how..." Her tears spill over, and I immediately slide my palm to the back of her neck and pull her to me.

"Okay..." I console her, because it hurts me to hurt her. There's a lot more pain inside her than I was expecting—which is pretty bloody naïve of me—but at the same time, I don't want to force her to face anything before she's ready, or all at once.

"I...I...just feel like I'm falling sometimes, Edward," she admits, her forehead resting against my shoulder. I can feel her tears as they soak into the cotton of my shirt. "It _scares_ me...so much..."

"But, it's okay to be scared." I turn my head and bury my face against her damp cheek. "Remember what you told me? Give me your pain and I'll hold it for you."

She half laughs through her tears, before inhaling them roughly back. "You're adorable."

"So are you," I tell her softly.

She kisses me, breaking off when her chest shudders. "Can we stop now? I...I feel naked..."

"But you're not shy about me seeing you naked," I remind her lightly.

She scoffs out what I think she means to be a laugh again, before tucking her hair behind her ear. Her hands are shaking, and it's bloody killing me.

"This is a kind of naked I don't want anyone to see," she admits, in a small voice, her eyes lowering. "It's easier to let you see my body."

* * *

 **A/N: Let me know. Or not. All good, and see you again soon.**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Seriously, the second I start to write an author's note my mind turns blank. So, if I sound standoffish, I apologise. I just suck at these things.  
I'm about to take this story to a hard left. I left a clue in chapter 8... *ahem*  
**

 **It sounds scripted, but thank you to everyone who've taken the time to leave reviews, or add me to your faves. If I update again within a week, I probably won't reply to reviews. I should, I know. It's usually due to the fact that I'm caught up writing it, or with life in general. I promise I don't take anyone reading my stories for granted. Christ, I sound needy right? I'll shut up.**

 **Thank you to Kimmie45, as always. Without her this story would be a mess of commas.**

 *****ETA: I should have been more specific. The curve ball isn't this chapter, but upcoming chapters. I fail, I know. The hint isn't to tease anyone, I promise. It's legitimately there. I do tend to leave them, but I don't usually let on that I do. I know I said "hard-left" but it's not at all a political innuendo. Gawd no, I'm not inserting any left/right garbage into anything I write. I meant "sharp turn". Yikes, I probably shouldn't update at 4am in the morning...** **  
**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 22**

 **Bella.**

Christ, how did I get here?

My days have always been categorised into good and bad. In the beginning it was all bad, and then after I escaped the Wicked Witch of the West I gradually got some good days. When I got my memories back they went straight back to bad, but then when I met Edward my bad days became fewer and far in between.

For a little while, at least.

Right now my good and bad days are on par, but I feel like I'm at a precipice and I'm about to fall into a world of darkness and pain. I know one thing, I'm not going through the loss of my family again. I've already done it twice, and I refuse to go back there again.

Repressed emotions have a habit of coming back, as my shrink says. If I don't deal with them they'll catch me off guard; which is exactly what's happening.

Yeah, I never dealt with any underlying emotions after I lost my family. It ripped my heart out and turned my entire life upside down until I was positive I'd died as well and was in Hell. The only way I could function and escape my grandmother was to switch everything off, and it worked. Until one handsome man came along and put a giant crack in the well of all those buried demons.

I'm pretty sure he's been reading Wiki on how to get me to open up to him. The irony is when he's pushing me to spill my guts it's the best bloody therapy for him. He doesn't apologise for it, even when he knows how much it hurts me. And it does bloody hurt me, but after...I feel a little bit less burdened.

Still, I have this bloody awful feeling of foreboding, as if something is steamrolling toward me and I'm powerless to stop it.

I think that's why I'm waking up in a blind panic every night, and it's worn me down so much I'm beginning to feel resigned and filling with apathy. I wish it would just come already, because the anticipation over it is becoming unbearable. And not only that, but the more this hell is being dragged out, the more my flight instincts are kicking in. I don't want to just escape, but I want to escape from Edward, because Edward is the cause of that tidal wave of repressed emotion that's constantly crashing against me. But if I lose Edward...

This could be the root cause of my panic, because it scares me above everything. I fear losing him and being abandoned again to that emotionless void where I can no longer feel. And I fear losing him because he's become everything to me. I gave him my heart and he didn't lock it away; he broke it open. But like blowing a hole in a prison wall to let all the innocents escape, it also lets out the monsters.

Our "talk" days are Wednesdays. I'm not sure how that happened, but it works for me because on Thursdays I have my appointment with my shrink and he helps me work through all the crap Edward unearths. Slowly it's helping me carve a path through the last decade of my life, where the black dog is at the beginning and Edward is at the end.

Since I agreed to open up to Edward more, he didn't break his promise to let Jasper attempt to make it up to him. Though, he did attempt to delay it.

I booked a table at the Hard Rock café in Darling Harbour—mainly because on a Friday night it's always packed, and because Edward is not likely to get angry and cause a scene in front of hundreds of people if my brother pisses him off. Not with his up-bringing.

Jasper managed to bowl Alice over. I have no idea how he did it considering they are complete opposites, but she's completely smitten by him. I even caught her doodling "Mrs Whitlock" on a notepad at work. Christ, I haven't done ridiculous crap like that since I was sixteen when I'd written "Bella 4 Edward" on my diary at home.

God, kill me. I would have never admitted to having a secret crush on Edward back then, despite wrongly assuming he was like my father and getting blowjobs from the entire Senior Girl's Hockey team.

Alice insisted on coming to dinner with us, and Jasper, claiming he didn't want any secrets between them, agreed to it. So it suddenly went from an intervention of sorts to a double date, and Edward was not impressed.

"Dinner, and that's it," he grumbles as we step off the ferry at Darling Harbour, before grabbing my hand and pulling me close to his side. It's the middle of June and bloody cold. "I'm not in the bloody mood tonight."

"All right, Mr Crabby-Pants, but try and be civil, okay?"

"When am I not civil..." he mumbles to himself. He's pouting. It's not very becoming, and that's a rare thing considering how ridiculously bloody handsome he is. He can be such a little boy.

"Oh, stop it." I wrap both arms around his, trying to absorb some of his body heat. He smells just as good as he usually does.

"You cold?" he asks, turning to me to drop his nose to the top of my head for a moment.

"I'm bloody freezing—hurry up." I attempt to get him to put a step on it; he has a habit of walking like he owns the world.

The Hard Rock Café is on the ground floor of the Harbourside Shopping Centre, with two entrances; one from inside of the mall and the other that opens to the outside, overlooking the harbour. This is where Edward and I enter from.

Jasper and Alice are already seated in a corner booth, and when Jasper spots us he waves us over.

Edward deliberately groans, only partially beneath his breath.

"Will you stop being such a bloody sook?" I mutter, elbowing him in the ribs.

He jolts slightly and chuckles to himself before leading me to where my brother's waiting.

They're sitting on the same side of the booth, and as we approach, they both slide out and get to their feet.

Jasper's eyes are on me, his grin growing broad.

"Hey, sis," he says brightly before pulling me into his arms, and out of Edward's.

"Behave yourself," I tell Jasper furtively, and the width of his grin only increases.

Beside me, Edward greets Alice by bending down to plant his lips to her cheek. Alice doesn't look so startled this time, and after Edward releases her, she turns to pull me into her arms.

I miss Edward and Jasper's greeting. Though, I did catch Edward's stiff-sounding "hey". I hope they shook hands, because while Edward doesn't like my brother, he was still raised to greet people properly.

We sit back down, Alice and Jasper on one side and me and Edward on the other. I'm sitting on the inside of the booth, opposite Jasper, because Mr Intense Eyes is a gentleman.

I subtly clear my throat and motion for Jasper to do the same.

He only gazes at me for a moment, blankly and in confusion, before it hits him.

"Oh...shit," he says, before shuffling Alice out, where they switch places. "Sorry, babe," he says to her. "I was ousted to the other side of the tracks when I was in Year 11.

Christ, he's being a smart arse, already...

"No worries," Alice replies none the wiser while Edward scoffs to himself, rolling his eyes.

"I'm kidding," Jasper declares, the smile inching across his face again. "Just breaking the ice."

"Very funny," I say dryly. "You got your hair cut." It's not as short as Edward's but a lot shorter than his former grungy-looking, unwashed mop. He looks deceivingly civilised.

"Yeah, no more man-bun." He winks.

"He looks handsome, don't you think?" Alice pipes up, reaching out to curl her fingers through it.

Beside me, Edward sighs, which I think he meant it to be under his breath, but I catch it. And so did Jasper.

"Hey, look..." Jasper begins, his tone turning a fraction serious. "I'm sorry, mate. I know you probably think I'm full of shit, but I mean it."

Edward clears his throat in a way that suggests it was to conceal how he really wanted to react. "Righto."

Christ—was he always so stubborn?

He obviously hasn't deterred my brother, though, because Jasper continues quickly after, "Yeah, I've got a chip on my shoulder about people with money. It's just...after what happened to Bella it got out about how my family was involved... Anyway, we were treated like lepers, and all these guys who claimed to be my friends suddenly didn't want a bar of me. I guess I'm still hung up on it."

"Oh, honey!" Alice exclaims horrified, grabbing his hand.

Edward folds his arms across the table and looks down at them. His body language is doing nothing to put me at ease, but when he glances up again his expression is more relaxed. Kind of like he knows he has to bury the hatchet and is getting it out of the way. "Fair enough."

I'm not bloody fooled, but Jasper is and that's the main thing, I guess. His grin immediately returns and he extends his hand across the table. "So, we good?"

Edward takes it in his briefly, half a smirk lighting up across his face, and there isn't a speck of sincerity in it. "Yeah, sure."

"Plus, you know, those rumours about you..." Jasper obviously doesn't have the foresight to quit while he's ahead, and Christ... "I was worried about Bella. You can understand that, right?"

"What rumours?" Edward replies, stiffly.

I grab Alice's attention, giving her that universal look every girl knows; "shut your boyfriend up now before shit hits the fan". Her expression becomes alarmed and she hastily turns to Jasper.

"Honey!" she blurts out.

"You know..." Jasper alludes to said rumours, his expression turning sly, after glancing at Alice briefly but not taking the bloody hint. "There was a tally that all the guys at my school were trying to beat."

Edward scoffs sarcastically before turning his head to look out over the café. He's gone tense and his jaw is clenching, and I decide I really don't like this side of him, after all.

"Christ, Jasper!" I snap, immediately annoyed. "Who the hell judges someone by rumours they heard in high school?!"

Then Edward does something. He immediately turns to look at me; his expression openly screaming, " _You_ did".

"What...?" Jasper's voice pulls me from Edward's gaze and back to him. "It was bullshit?" He's clearly not convinced.

"Of course it was bullshit!" I snap, and I'm not sure who I'm more pissed off at, Edward or him.

"Sorry, man," Jasper laughs as if it's a lot funnier than it really is. "I thought they were true."

"No worries," Edward says dryly, flashing him a deliberately mocking smile.

A waitress arrives to take our order, and thank bloody Christ!

It doesn't improve much after. For the most part Edward is stony, and he barely speaks three words for the rest of dinner. His mood infects Alice, who starts to glance at him in concern, as if she fears for Jasper's safety. It's not at all unwarranted because Mr Eyes of Steel can look incredibly intimidating when he wants to. Plus, he's a lot taller than my brother.

I decide to deal with him and his childishness later and chat to Alice and Jasper, but I can see it plainly in Alice's eyes. Despite how clueless Jasper is, she wants to leave and get him to safety.

I'm halfway through my meal when I decide to chuck in the towel. I abruptly stand up and shove Edward to the side, giving him the hint to vacate his seat. "We're leaving. Mr Money Bags will pay for the bill," I assert, motioning to Edward with a jerk of my head.

Then after embracing Alice and then Jasper, I turn around and leave the cafe, whether Edward's behind me or not.

He catches up to me just as I'm about to cross the Pyrmont Bridge, grabbing my arm.

"You're an arsehole!" I burst, turning to face him and jerking my elbow from his grip.

"What do you want me to say, Bella?" he replies, and there's no apologies from him, which is bloody ironic. "I don't like him."

"So you decided to act like a bloody child until it got so awkward I had to put an end to it?" And huffing, I turn back around and continue walking.

"I accepted his apology, didn't I?" he says following behind me as if that's some kind of justification.

I snort to myself but don't reply.

He follows me in silence as I walk to back to Barangaroo Wharf before sitting beside me on a bench to wait for the ferry.

"I'm sorry," he leans closer to me to speak softly in my ear.

"You should be," I mutter without looking at him.

"You going to ignore me?"

"You want me to scream at you in front of hundreds of people?" I glance at him and raise my eyebrow.

He smiles and tilts his head, and I think he means to charm me, but it's not bloody working.

We take the ferry to Milson's Point, where Edward had parked his rental car earlier, before driving back to my place in silence. Edward attempts to engage me in conversation on the way, but undeterred, I continue ignoring him.

He pulls alongside my car in the carport and I'm out and striding to my front door before he can turn off the engine. He's a couple of metres from me when I unlock my front door, let myself in and slam it closed again; locking it behind me.

"Bella..." He knocks on the door. "I'm really sorry. Are you going to let me in?"

"Nope!" I holler. "I'm going in the shower, now. Goodnight!" I head to the bathroom, opening and slamming that door as well, hoping he heard me. Oppa only stares up at me like I've lost the plot.

My message alert beeps, and after dumping my bag on the vanity, I yank out my phone in frustration.

He sent me a text: **I'm going to stay out here all night.**

 **I hope you've got something warm to wear then,** is how I reply before putting my phone on silent and turning on the spray of the shower.

I deliberately drag it out, and when I finally step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself, I discover he's sent me another four text messages.

 **I'm really sorry, Bella. Please let me in so we can talk.** Followed by:

 **Please? I was a prick, I admit it. Can we talk?** And then:

 **I'll let you hit me, and then I'll make you scream until your neighbours call the cops thinking I'm murdering you.** And finally:

 **Bella, please. It's bloody cold out here.**

The last text was sent only a couple of minutes ago, so it's safe to bloody assume he still hasn't gone home.

I dry my hair and get dressed for bed, giving him a few extra minutes to decide to leave, and when I yank open the front door again I find him sitting huddled on my doorstep.

He jerks to his feet, and in silence I open the door wider to let him inside.

"What if I'd left you out there all night?" I put to him shortly.

"But you didn't." He pulls out the charm again because he knows he's bloody gorgeous. I've got to stop telling him he is all the time. "Forgive me?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Stop it—and no!" I turn my back on him and storm off angrily to the kitchen.

"I read his texts," he attempts to explain from behind me while I put the kettle on and crash around looking for my mug. "He sent me all these dumb-arse messages like he thought it was a big fucking joke. It pissed me off."

I turn around, mug in hand. "So, he's a bigger bloody child than you are. It doesn't give you an excuse to act like one, too."

"I know..." he concedes.

"You acted like an arsehole in front of Alice, and you embarrassed me! Alice probably thinks you're a mental case—I'm going to let her!"

"I know," he repeats, his tone softening this time before his eyes fall to his feet. "He just got under my skin..."

I take a frustrated breath and release it, attempting to rid myself of some of the tension at the same time. "Can't you just tolerate him for my sake?" I appeal to him.

"Yeah...okay..." he eventually relents, and shoving his hands in his front pockets, his eyes once more drop to the floor.

I sigh again and shake my head. "What the bloody hell am I supposed to do with you?"

He looks up and catches my gaze, a slight smile ghosting across his face. "Forgive me," is his answer.

I groan, allowing my head to fall to my palm for a moment, before turning back around. "You want a coffee?"

"Yeah..."

I bend down to retrieve his mug out of the cupboard, and when I stand up again he's suddenly behind me, curling his arms around my shoulders and pulling me to his chest.

"I'm sorry, baby, and this time you deserve to hear me say it," he murmurs in my ear before pressing his lips to my temple.

I release my breath again, because there's really no rational bloody way of resisting him. "Okay..."

"I'm forgiven?"

"You're forgiven."

He turns me around to face him before leaning closer to me to rest his nose against my hair. "I didn't fuck it up, did I?" he asks softly, sounding almost like he was saying it to himself.

"Fuck what up?" I inquire, pulling back to meet his eyes.

"You..." he says apprehensively, his forehead creasing. "I mean...the last few days you've seemed happy again."

" _Happy again_?" I echo him, blankly. Christ, is that how he's seen me?

"I want you to stay happy." He brings his fingers to the side of my face, while his eyes almost appear pained.

"Christ, Edward, I _am_ happy," I attempt to convince him. "I just have shit days, that's all."

"I know..." he admits, "but those shit days of yours scare the _shit_ out of me."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading. I like to hear all opinions but if you can't be arsed that's okay too.  
** **xoxo  
**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: School hols suck, the weather is trying to kill us all, and my daughter's Tamagotchi is traumatising her. Plus, my mother's visiting and she's making me watch The Royals on Stan (Aus version of Netflix) So...I forgot to update. Yeah, I'm shit, I know. Even shittier for offering up a lame arse excuse.  
Thanks, kim. I love you.  
**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 23**

 **Edward**

I ask Dr Jenks whether he thinks Bella is Bi-Polar. He immediately gets the shits with me and demands I stop asking about her, but he eventually alludes to the fact that she isn't.

It's somewhat of a relief, but not by much.

"Well, can you at least tell me who the hell she is?" I ask, frustrated, because Bella's back to being a wave again. She comes toward me in a rush and immediately pulls back. This is on top of never knowing what mood she's going to be in from one day to the next. Most days she's completely fine and I start thinking she's starting to move beyond the bloody trauma of her past, but then without any warning she goes quiet and all she wants to do is sleep.

He gives me a funny look, tilting his head and pressing the end of his pen to his cheek. "You already know who she is."

"You mean that crazy girl is really Bella?"

He chuckles. "Yes."

"Okay, well, that's good to know," I say to myself, rubbing my brow and breaking into a small smile, because I love that bloody crazy girl.

"Why don't you tell me what you know about her, Edward? I don't mind talking about that," he suggests after a moment.

I release my breath, contemplating it for a few seconds. "Hmm…she has a wicked bloody sense of humour, and...she has Post Traumatic Stress..."

"—She told you about that?" he interrupts me, sounding surprised. "Good."

"I knew that anyway. I mean, I don't think she'd be human if she didn't."

He nods once and motions for me to continue.

"She's so up and down. I mean, sometimes she opens up to me easily, but then she'll immediately clam up and she refuses to talk about anything. I...I just never know how she's going to be."

He nods again as if he understands.

"She told me she was suicidal, and that was huge—and it scared the shit out of me—but then I think she regretted it because she wouldn't tell me anything for a while after."

"You have to be patient, Edward. The fact that she is beginning to open up to you is a good sign that she trusts you, and while it's good to push her, you still have to give her room to feel comfortable enough to show you more of herself. Do you understand?"

I nod. "Yeah, I do, and none of it really surprised me. I'd be bloody suicidal too if that happened to me."

"Hmm...but there's a big difference between feeling suicidal and attempting it."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, when my fucking blood turns to ice in my veins. " _What...?"_ I ask, my voice almost failing me in bloody horror."

He's on his feet in an instant, and from his expression it's obvious he thought I already knew. "I think we're done for today, Edward," he says abruptly, ushering me toward the door. "Please don't tell Bella you've been speaking to me about this. It will undermine her progress and she will see it as a betrayal—not only from you, but from me also."

I nod, my mind racing ahead of me. "I-I won't."

Bella tried to kill herself?

"I can't talk about Bella with you anymore, Edward. I hope you understand?" he says, before opening the door to his office.

I only nod my head again, but I'm not sure what I'm really responding to.

I drive home in the piece of shit rental with my hands bloody shaking. I was stressed about Bella contemplating suicide, but this... This is an entirely different bloody story.

It's just after 6pm when I get home. Jake's home as well; with Ness. He's been with her for six months now. I'm pretty sure it's the longest stretch he's ever been with a girl, and I'm starting to believe him when he tells me that she's really 'the one'.

"Hey, Edward," she greets me brightly. She's sitting in the family room, a glass of wine in her hand. Jake's in the kitchen looking like he's attempting to cook something.

"Hey, mate!" he hollers.

"Hey," I reply, my back to him as I make my way to his girlfriend.

Placing the wine glass on the coffee table she stands up to anticipate me.

I bend down and plant my lips briefly to her cheek; she hugs me to her for a moment longer before releasing me, while I instinctively tense.

"How's Bella?" she asks.

"She's...good," I hesitate, but what can I say? She once tried to kill herself, and she still might?

Christ...

"We need to get together and have dinner again, sometime."

"Yeah..." I say, forcing the smile to my face. "I'll talk to you later, okay? I'm gonna have a shower."

"Sure."

I make my way into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator door and grabbing a beer.

"What the hell are you making?" I put to Jake, after yanking the top off the bottle and tossing it in the bin.

"Pizza," he answers. "Hey..." He lowers his voice, indicating for me to come closer.

"What?" I ask, standing beside him and peeling a slice of salami from the train wreck he's creating.

"Oi!" He elbows me as I shove it in my mouth. "So, she met the old man..."

"Yeah...?"

"She charmed the back teeth off him—he bloody loves her," he relays to me, his voice still steeped in disbelief, and he's not the only one.

"That's good, mate," I acknowledge, and I'm happy for him. For William Black to accept a girl from a working class family in the South West is the closest thing to a miracle you see in his family. "He must be mellowing."

"I bloody wish," he mutters, but he can't keep the smile off his face. "I think the old bastard has a thing for nurses."

I smirk. "When d'you meet? For lunch?"

"Yeah." He turns to me, his expression instantly reversing. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing." I turn to leave, when he immediately grabs my shoulder, and I guess he's not convinced.

"You look the same as you did when Bella puked all over you—what's happening?"

"It's nothing!" I repeat, becoming frustrated before shrugging him from me. It's nothing I can talk about, anyway.

He hold his hands up. "Righto, go and mope in peace."

"Yeah, whatever..." I make my way toward my bedroom.

"Hey? You want some pizza?"

"No," I answer without turning back to him.

"Bye, Edward," Ness calls to me.

"Bye."

I have a shower and wait until Jake and Ness head to his half of the house, before returning to the kitchen to reheat leftovers for dinner. Jake's made a fucking mess, like he usually does, but then he's never had to pick up after himself in his life. Pissed off, I clear the rubbish he's discarded on the counters, and shove it in the bin while my dinner heats in the microwave.

Just because I pay a house cleaner to come every other day, doesn't mean I want her to think we live like pigs; which is essentially how Jake does live.

After pouring the now steaming spaghetti Bolognaise into a bowl, I head into the back living room and switch on the television; only to distract myself, because my mind's still buzzing.

I hold out for two minutes before I call Bella. It's the break after second term; I'd met her today for lunch like I do most days I'm on holidays. The last few days she's been pretty good—her usual self—but the week before that most of the time she wasn't.

"Hi, darling," she answers immediately, sounding a little too cheerful, and ' _darling_ '? Christ, she must be pissed.

"Hey—where are you?" I ask; wherever she is it sounds crowded.

"O'Brien's," she answers, referring to the Irish pub on King Street. "My boss shouted everyone for drinks—his fourth daughter was born today." She snickers. "I think he wants to commiserate with us."

"Ah..." I say when she immediately cuts in.

"Where were you? I tried calling you—partners were invited too."

"Ah...shit, sorry, Bella. I left my phone in the car," I explain, and my head was so messed up after seeing my shrink I didn't even check it for messages after I retrieved it.

"Jasper's here—say 'hello'." She's obviously speaking to her brother, before his voice blasts through my receiver.

"Heeeeey, Edward!" He sounds just as pissed, as well.

"Yeah, hi..." I say dryly. "Bella?"

"Yes?"

"You want me to come and get you?" Because when I think of her and her arsehole brother together I automatically think of him upsetting her.

"No, my car's at Milson's Point," she reminds me, and of course it is. It always is, but my head's not on straight at the moment.

"How much have you had to drink?" I ask. She sounds fairly coherent but then she only ever really relaxes when she's drunk.

"Two... Okay, maybe three..." she admits, and by the tone of her voice she's messing with me.

"Bella..." I sigh, running my hand rigidly back through my hair.

"I'm _fine_ , Mr Stress-Head—you should see the pictures. She so adorable I want to smoosh her."

"Who?—oh, yeah... Getting clucky, are you?" I tease her.

"Christ, no!" She sounds horrified by the thought. "Me and babies? I wouldn't wish that hell on a poor kid."

"Bella...? She was a little too passionate, it didn't quite sound rational.

"Yes, darling?"

"Jesus—no more 'darling', please..." It didn't take me long to figure out her "darlings" were another one of her covers, but sometimes she really is just teasing me. Altogether it's become a mind-fuck trying to figure out which one it is.

"What's wrong, Mr Tension?" she asks, the tone of her voice dropping and becoming suspicious.

"Nothing. How are you?"

"You saw me earlier today, you dag. How did I look?"

"Yeah..." I run my palm down my face. I don't know what the fuck I even mean at the moment.

"Okay, what's the matter?" she asks me, seriously this time.

"Nothing. I-I'm tired, I guess."

" _Tired_ ," she echoes, unconvinced. "You're on holidays."

"I know... I didn't sleep well last night," I lie.

"Well, get some sleep tonight—I have good news."

"Yeah?"

"I have an RDO Friday. What do you want to do?"

"What do _you_ want to do?"

"I dunno. We still having dinner after I see my shrink tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, we'll come up with something then."

"All right."

"Sure you're okay? You sound broody," she asks.

"I'm fine."

"Okay—I think it's going to wrap up soon."

"Righto, let me know when you get home."

"I will."

"Bella?"

"Yes?"

"I...love you."

"Christ you're adorable. See you tomorrow, handsome." She didn't say it back to me, but she says it when it counts, and that's all that matters.

"Bye, baby."

 **I'm home, honey bunch—since I can't call you darling anymore** , she texts me forty minutes later, and I break immediately into a grin.

Christ, what would I do without her in my life?

 **. . .**

I lay awake in bed for hours. I'm restless and my mind feels fragmented and overrun. It won't shut up so I can fall asleep, and I can't get Bella out of my head. Or the knowledge of what her shrink inadvertently revealed to me today. Everything's too real now. Brutally fucking real, and so is the bloody fear that I could lose her. That she could decide I'm not enough to keep her here.

By 3 am I've given up trying to sleep; I can't throw off the panic that's beginning to set in the longer I'm sleep deprived.

An hour later I'm driving to her house.

" _Edward_!?" she exclaims after opening the door to me. She's still clearly half asleep, her hair's a complete mess, and she's wearing blue checked flannel pyjamas that are too big—and shouldn't be nearly as appealing as they are. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, Bella..." I reply, I'm still feeling frazzled and I don't have an explanation planned. "I just needed to see you."

"Why?" she asks looking dazed, before opening the door wider and moving aside for me to enter.

"I...just—because." And as soon as she closes the door behind us I yank her into my arms.

For a moment she doesn't move, and it's obvious I'm confusing her before she slowly wraps her arms around me. "What's going on?" she asks me softly.

I pull her back, and glancing away from her, I run my hand stiffly through my hair. "I'm worried about you," I eventually admit.

Her brow knots deeper. "About...?"

"You...you'd tell me if you were feeling bad—I mean, you'd tell me before you did anything?" I ask her; I don't sound rational, and she's clearly getting frustrated.

"Christ—I knew I should never have told you!" she bursts, dropping her head into her outstretched hand.

"Hey..." I take her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at me. "Bella...you've never done anything...like that. Have-have you?"

She stares at me for a moment, but it's obvious, she's looking straight through me. "I almost did..." she mumbles before her focus snaps back to me. "What's got into you all of a sudden?"

"I don't know. I just got it in my head..."

"Edward... Christ—come in the room. It's freezing out here." And grabbing me by the sleeve of my jumper she tugs me after her.

"I was in a really bad place then," she explains after pulling the both of us back under her doona. "I'd just got my memories back again, and even though seven years had passed it felt like it had all just happened. I remember you helping me with maths in the library like it was only a few days before. That's how new it felt, and that's how recent losing my family was to me. I had to go through it all again."

"Christ...Bella..." I attempt to bring her to me, but she resists, before rubbing her face with both palms.

"I'd just escaped my grandmother, I was homeless—,"

"You-you were homeless...?" I interject, unsure what to make of it.

"Yes, _homeless_ ," she stresses it further, her voice wavering, "but it wouldn't have mattered where I was because the worst bloody moment in my life was suddenly on replay, and I hit rock bottom."

I pull her to me, whether she wants me to or not, and drop my face against her wild mess of bed hair. "Just tell me what I have to do to make your life happy."

She looks up at me slowly as if she thinks I'm nuts. "You already make it happy, just by being in it."

I half smile before it again falls. "You don't have those thoughts anymore?"

"Christ—of course I don't," she snaps as if she's offended by my question. "What would be the point of that?"

"I'm sorry..." Because I am.

"Okay, why are you all of sudden so hung up on all this? I told you bloody six months ago." She's becoming suspicious, and that's the problem with Bella. She's too bloody perceptive.

"I dunno," I mumble, hanging my head and sighing heavily. "I'm always a miserable bastard when I don't sleep..."

She's silent for a little while, as if lost in her thoughts, before she breaks it. "It's not that I don't mind you turning up on my doorstep in the middle of the night...but Edward, all this worrying isn't good for you." She grabs my chin and shakes it playfully.

"I know..." I concede, throwing her a half-assed smile.

She gazes at me for a moment, her expression becoming wry. "I like when it's school holidays."

"Why?"

"Because you have this." She pinches my four-day-old stubble between her thumb and forefinger.

I break into a genuine smile this time. "I'm sorry I woke you," I murmur.

"You woke me."

"Want to go back to sleep?" I put to her.

"Nope." She shakes her head, before placing her hands to my neck, her fingers dragging over my jaw.

She kisses me and the next thing I know the medium between has completely switched and I'm running my hands beneath her pyjama top.

She has my jumper over my head in the next moment before laying back and pulling me with her; while I attempt to rip her flannel bottoms off.

I don't know whether it's because it's past 4 am in the morning, or I haven't been to sleep yet but I'm not sure I can finish. That's when Bella flips me over and pulls me forward until I'm sitting up with her. She takes control, and I let her because she has a crazy amount of energy and an uncanny ability of extracting every last ounce of it from me.

"So, guess what?" she says, lying against me while I'm recovering on my back after, my heart ploughing through my body and affecting me so much I'm practically trembling.

"What?" I reply, my eyes closed.

"Jasper proposed to Alice."

"What?" My eyes snap open and I gaze at her for a moment. "How long have they been together?"

"Almost four months."

"Christ..." I mutter, laying my head back down and running both my hands back through the front of my hair.

"I know..." she says in agreement, resting her chin against my chest. "But they're so flippantly unlike they'll probably end up married for seventy years." There's something wistful about her tone, and I half open my eyes and peek at her.

"She's not pregnant, is she?"

"God, Edward, it's not 1955."

I smirk, reaching out to run my thumb over her lips. They're slightly swollen. "You don't want to get married, do you?"

She snaps her head up and gazes at me with her mouth falling open. "How exactly am I meant to take that?"

My grin broadens before I push it quickly through my nose. "I'm sorry... Does that mean I have to go to their wedding?"

"Of course you do. I'm Matron of Honour. Christ, that makes me feel old."

"Old? You're barely twenty-seven."

"If I was Elizabeth Bennett I'd be a spinster."

" _What_? Who the hell is Elizabeth Bennett?"

"You are such a heathen," she teases me, before curling her arm over my bare chest.

"Bella..."

"Hmm?"

"When you said you escaped from your grandmother...she didn't keep you prisoner, or anything, did she?"

"Edward..." she complains. "Ask me next Wednesday."

"You going to tell me?" She's been doing a lot of deflecting lately. Last week she wanted to know how all the female teachers at work react to me.

"You got an advance tonight, so maybe the week after."

I groan softly. "You're doing my head in."

"You don't tell me your sad stories," she reminds me, but she's always reminding me. "I think our relationship is getting a little bit one-sided."

"Hmm...but I'm not waking up with night terrors at 3 am every morning." I turn and press my lips to her forehead.

"No, but you used to jump out of your skin if I laid a finger on you."

"I did that once, and then you cured me."

"Nope. I see the way you flinch from Ness—and Alice."

"Ness and Alice aren't you..." I close my eyes again. My heart's finally calmed and exhaustion is beginning to set in.

"You're adorable..." she murmurs, running her fingers over my forehead and into my hair.

I release my breath into a drowsy moan, feeling myself begin to drift away.

"Edward...? she calls my name softly.

"Hmm...?

"I do want to get married..."

* * *

 **A/N: Lurk away, or tell me I fail. All good, and thanks for reading.  
xoxo**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I have been so busy preparing for the new school year I haven't written a bloody thing. Ugh. But I'm still several chapters a head so it's cool. Kids are back Wednesday. Does it sound like I'm making excuses again?  
Anywho I can't post a chapter without thanking my Beta, Kimmie45, and my pre-reader, SammyHale- MWAH. lovelies.  
** **Happy reading, and I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 24**

 **Bella.**

The damn has burst. It was always going to happen, no matter how much I ran from it. I should have prepared myself, and I should have listened to my bloody shrink.

Dr Jenks has been telling me for month that if I didn't deal with the emotions Edward was forcing me to feel, I'd end up finding a reason to push him away, and that I'd regret it.

I'm guilty of both. I desperately want to rectify it, but I don't know how. In truth, I don't know what the hell I'm doing, just that I've fallen. I've fallen straight into the clutches of every label my shrink has put on me, and there's no bloody label to get me out of it.

Like a tsunami, everything came rushing at me at once. Every second of the hell of the last decade. Everything I tried to suppress for my own survival. All of it. It was too much all at once until I could no longer differentiate one thing from another.

How I felt about Edward, how I felt about Edward keeping things from me and lying to me, and how I couldn't even process it when he'd brought an avalanche of emotions upon me.

"You're looking for a reason to hurt him, Bella, so he can't hurt you first." That was the last thing Dr Jenks said to me Thursday and I told him flat out it was ridiculous. I was not looking for a reason to hurt Edward. I couldn't bear the idea of it, and Edward, as sweet as he is, would not deliberately hurt me.

Of that I was certain.

I'd soon come to realise how true those words of his would be.

After my appointment with Dr Jenks I headed home to get changed. Edward and I were going to Fratelli Fresh on Bridge Street again. The same Italian restaurant we went to on our first date, to celebrate our nine month anniversary. It seems silly now, but for me it was momentous. Not only had I not been with anyone for as long as I was with Edward, but I'd never felt anything even close to how I felt about Edward before. It was huge for me, and I was proud of myself for the progress I'd made.

We didn't make it to dinner.

I was in the middle of stripping off my clothes to jump in the shower when the Final Fantasy theme music that Edward has for his ringtone started blasting from inside my bedroom.

It was sitting on my bedside table, and I realised he'd left it here when he went home after his unexpected 4am visit the previous night.

"Hello?"

"G'day, Love. It's Garrett Biers from Audi mechanics. Can I speak to..." he paused and I heard papers shuffling, "Edward Cullen."

"He's not here right now. Can I take a message?"

"Yeah, you can let him know the repairs on his A7 are finished and it's ready to be picked up."

"Oh, it's been found?"

"...Sorry, love?"

"It was found—it was stolen last month."

"I dunno about that. It was brought in last month after it was rear-ended."

I paused for a moment. "Who...brought it in?"

"The car's owner, Mr Cullen." He was starting to sound confused, while realisation was beginning to descend upon me.

"I'm sorry, what date was it brought in?"

"Hang on, love." I heard more sound of papers shuffling when he returned to the phone. "June 12th."

"June 12th..." I repeated as I mentally calculated the dates over the last several weeks. That's when my blood suddenly ran cold. "Okay...I'll let him know."

I hung up, and for a few seconds I almost felt dazed while my heart was beginning to beat furiously behind my ribcage.

He lied to me—why would he lie to me? Okay, I got my why lied to me, but...he can't lie to me. Not about that.

I had a shower and got dressed to go out for dinner before waiting for Edward to arrive. I was angry, and becoming more so as the minutes ticked by.

He arrived early, because he always bloody did, and after pulling open the front door I grabbed a handful of his shirt and abruptly yanked him inside.

"Do you have something to tell me?" I demanded after slamming the door closed again behind him.

He only stared at me in confusion for a moment, his brow heavily creasing. "No..."

"Think about it. Have you been 100% honest with me the last – god knows how many months?"

"Bella..." he began in that smooth as whiskey voice of his, but it was only serving to annoy me.

"Edward! Just bloody give it up – I already know!" I snapped, and that's when his expression changed and immediately flooded with guilt.

"I'm sorry," he said with a heavy sigh, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I didn't know..."

" _Didn't know_?!" I repeated in disbelief that he'd offer up such a pathetic excuse. "How could you _not_ know?"

"Bella—" he began, his eyes wide and beseeching, when I cut him off.

"They did that to me in hospital, Edward! You know what they said?"—he shook his head—"They said, 'everything's fine, _darling_. Your parents are fine, your brothers are at St Vincent's and they're fine'. 'They're fine,' they said, well they WEREN'T FINE! How could you lie to me?!" I wasn't acting rational, I knew it. Even as the words were leaving my mouth I wanted to rein them back in and tone them down. I couldn't blame him for what happened back then, but I was still hurt; I just wasn't sure why it hurt me to so much extent.

"Bella," he repeated, and there was a pleading in his tone, but at the same time he was beginning to sound frustrated, "if you'd just told me that..."

"— _What?"_ I burst, shaking my head, unable to get my head around his thought process. "Is that what you're going with? I didn't explain to you why you shouldn't lie to me?"

He opened his mouth, but closed it again; his eyes once more dropping to the floor beneath his feet. "I'm sorry..." he mumbled.

"What else is bloody new? You're always sorry. My boyfriend who's sorry for _everything_ , and when he's not he's lying to me." I was being a bitch, but Christ, why couldn't I stop myself? Why was I so upset over this?

His gaze snapped immediately back to mine. "Jesus, Bella – what do you want from me?"

"Honesty would be a bloody start," I retorted, because that went without saying. "And maybe not treating me like I'm a fragile bloody infant!"

"Look..." he placed his hands on his hips, his head hanging, "I know how this looks, but I honestly didn't know we had the same shrink. I'm _not_ lying, Bella," he appealed to me.

It took me a good thirty seconds before I could properly comprehend his words when the reality of what he was saying suddenly struck me. I immediately pulled up short, feeling like my heart was about to stall in my chest. "W-what...? You... _what_?" My voice almost failed me in absolute horror.

He was seeing my shrink?!

He was confused again, his head once more shaking back and forth, while his expression started to take on an edge of panic.

"What did you do, _Edward_?" I asked him in barely a whisper. I felt sick, but... He wouldn't do this to me. He wouldn't go behind my back like this.

"I-I just wanted advice on how to help you—that's all." He took a step towards me, but I immediately scrambled away from him and almost tripped over my feet.

That's when it hit me.

My hand rose to my mouth and for one terrible moment I felt like I might throw up. "Oh my god... That's why you came over last night—why you were so afraid I—OH MY GOD!"

I felt faint and suddenly struggling to breathe I turned my back on him and stammered into the bathroom to grab my inhaler. And to be within close proximity of the toilet if my stomach decided to lunge.

In silence he followed me, standing before me helplessly, while I gripped the edge of the vanity with one hand and shot my inhaler repeatedly down my lungs with the other.

"Baby...Christ, it's not how you think," he pleaded with me, but all I could conceive of was that Edward knew before I was even remotely ready for him to know those details about me. He went behind my back to find out himself.

"So, you know I tried to kill myself— _WHAT ELSE DO YOU KNOW_?!" I was shaking, my legs were beginning to feel like jelly, and realising this Edward took a hasty step forward to prevent me from falling. I didn't react; I only hung limply in his arms.

"Bella..."

"You have to leave, Edward." I sounded way too calm, but a storm was raging within me, throwing my mind into turmoil. I didn't attempt to shrug him off me; I couldn't. I had no strength. "Oh my god, what have you done...?" My voice broke.

"Bella, please let me explain," he begged me but all I could see was the guilt in his eyes; the guilt all over his face.

"Explain...?" I could no longer comprehend him. "I'm not sure I know who you are."

He kept those eyes trained on me before something fractured in them and then reflected on his face. I'd hurt him. "I've been seeing him for years, Bella. It's not how you think!"

I laughed. At lease I attempted to, dryly; sarcastically. "How convenient... Let me go," I said weakly, jerking my arm, but he held onto me, steadfast. "I'm not even close to kidding right now, Edward. You've got exactly three seconds to let me go."

My voice was so cold and stony that even I didn't recognise myself behind it, and from his expression, neither did Edward. He immediately released me.

"Will you let me explain?" he asked, sounding defeated, while I staggered to sit down on the closed lid of the toilet.

I didn't answer; I couldn't. I only dropped my head into my hands while I fought to keep my composure.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he murmured and I could hear the pain in his voice, but surprisingly it didn't affect me like I imagined it would.

"By the way," I added, looking up to meet his gaze head on, without a shred of emotion. "Garrett from Audi called. Your car's ready to be picked up."

He stared at me for a moment and I watched, those intense eyes wide and overrun, as realisation flooded them.

This is when he dropped his head, dragging his rigid fingers through his hair to the back of his neck. "Shit..." he whispered.

It was all the validation I needed; that he'd been lying to me, and before I was even properly aware of it, tears were burning their way up my throat and streaming down my face.

"I thought I could trust you?" I put to him. I felt violated, and just being in his presence was suddenly making my skin crawl.

"You _can_ trust me," he promised me, taking a step toward me again, when I all but convulsed.

"I can't—not anymore. I _can't._ Christ... How could you do this, Edward?" I begged him to help me to understand, because I couldn't.

"Bella..." he began, the tenor of his voice soft and wavering, but releasing a heavy breath, he severed my gaze and let it go.

"Please leave," I whispered in a fractured sob. "I can't look at you."

He didn't move; he only stood shaking his head back and forth, his arms tense at his sides.

"Get _out_ , Edward!" I struggled to raise my voice, but I was serious. "I _never_ want to see you again." And closing my eyes, I dropped my face to my hands and sobbed. I sobbed breathlessly and without any restraint when all I wanted him to do was pull me into his arms and tell me it was all a mistake. To tell me anything other than the truth that now existed between us. That he'd betrayed my trust, and so had my bloody shrink.

But he didn't. For the longest moment he didn't say a word; he only stood before me, silent and unmoving.

"I love you, Bella..." he eventually uttered, sounding close to tears himself, and then he was gone.

He wasn't waiting on my doorstep this time; he was just gone, and I was alone again.

 **. . .**

I didn't cry when I lost my family. The shock was so momentous and overwhelming I didn't know how to process it, let alone delve in to the depths of grief it had suddenly plummeted me into. It was easier to vault it all away and divert my attention, and that's what I intended to do after Edward left.

I didn't want to cry; I didn't want to mourn him. I didn't know how to, but I could no more stop the tears than I could the sun from rising. Once the floodgates were opened I couldn't shut them again. Edward had been slowly chipping away at the damn that had contained the last decade of my heart, and now it was gushing out and drowning me.

He sent me a text that night. Two words that became synonymous with him: **I'm sorry**. And then another one a few minutes later: **I'll give you all the time you need, but please come back to me.**

I'd only stared at them, my grief-fogged brain unable to properly comprehend it, until they became nothing more than a jumble of letters.

I told myself I'd give myself a couple of days to clear my head and re-evaluate everything, but with each hour that passed I realised I was becoming overloaded until I wasn't sure where the cause of pain was stemmed from. Just that it was coming at me from all angles.

I tried to shun it and block it out, but it was too late now, and it suddenly became apparent why I feared getting so close to Edward; why my subconscious had been warning me from the beginning. Loving him was easy, so I wasn't sure why I could never quite shrug off the uneasiness that was always lurking at the back of my mind. But now I knew why.

I fell in love with him, and it exposed me to emotions I had long since buried. Emotions I was too afraid to confront; emotions I was too young to process. Those emotions didn't go away like I'd thought; they'd only gone dormant, and while loving Edward opened the door to them, being hurt by him let them in.

And now I was at the mercy of them, and they were fast wearing me down. I couldn't do anything to shield myself from them; I had no more defences. I wanted to call Edward, knowing I could find peace in his arms, in his body—in that intense gaze of his—but I was so inundated I wasn't sure if my thoughts were even rational. I was so inundated I started to fear him; to fear what was now attached to him.

I felt like I was lost in a maze, cloaked by a fog so dense I couldn't find a path through it, and the pain raging in my heart was so vivid I was beginning to feel like I was in shock.

We had a fight, that's all. We'd been caught up in a misunderstanding, and I knew with every rational part of my mind that we needed to talk it out, but I couldn't. I was no longer sure what I felt anymore, whether any of it was real or projections. Just that the pain I'd been running from for the better part of a decade had finally caught up to me. It had caught up to me, and it had stopped me in its tracks.

 **. . .**

A week passes, and I'm still no closer to climbing my way out of this hell I've found myself in. Work is the only thing keeping me sane. It's the distraction I need to keep my thoughts from going down _that_ path, and to keep my head up above the chaos until I can find myself again. Find the will I once had to keep living each day after another.

I know I need to go back to my shrink, but I can't. I can't trust him anymore, either, but I need to get myself out of this misery before it's the end of me. The longer I'm trapped in it, the more I can feel it reeling me in and infecting me with that crippling sense of hopelessness.

And I miss Edward. I miss him so much it's hard so breathe some days, but I've lost him just as sure as I'm losing myself in the swell of grief that's circling my heart like a drain.

He's called me multiple times. I've ignored all of them. I'm not sure what to say to him; I'm not sure if there's anything I can say to him. All I know is that Dr Jenks was right. I was never ready to be in any kind of relationship. How could I give myself over to someone when I couldn't even be truthful to myself? How could I love someone when I barely knew what it meant to feel?

But I need to talk to someone; I'm going crazy.

 **. . .**

I'm having a shit day at work. It's one of those days where I just can't quite catch up on what I'm doing, while falling further and further behind. After lunch my boss calls me into his office and asks me if I'm okay, while he gazes at me with eyes that are immersed with concern.

"I'm fine," I answer his many questions patiently and without emotion.

"Do you need some time off?" he offers me.

"No!" I reply a little too sharply. "I need to keep busy," I hastily explain my outburst.

"Bella..." he says, his voice turning tender, "it's okay to reach out sometimes. It doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."

"I'm fine," I repeat, numbly.

"Go home," he says abruptly. "I'm giving you the next couple of days off, and I don't want to hear about it. Go home and gets some sleep—take care of yourself!"

I shake my head, instantly flooding with panic. "No!" I insist, pleading with him. "I can't—I need to keep busy."

"Bella..." he sighs, removing his glasses to rub his eyes, "you've got someone to talk to, haven't you? Someone who knows what you've been through?"

"...I...I don't know..." I admit in a quiet voice.

"You can talk to me," he proposes, and while he's a caring man who treats his staff with courtesy and respect, he's lived a charmed, privileged life. His only concerns are alimony payments and school fees; I'm not sure what kind of advice he could offer me.

I shake my head and repeat the same mantra, "I'm fine..."

His gazes sharpens. "I could be deaf and blind and still know that's bullshit." He's suddenly frustrated. "Who's your shrink?"

"Dr Jenks..."

"Would you like me to make an appointment for you?"

"No."

"Bella..." But releasing a stiff breath, he abandons it. "Get going. I don't want to see you back here until Tuesday."

That's when I relent and call him. I call my brother.

* * *

 **A/N: This was always bound to happen, so don't hate me. Okay, well, you can hate on me, it's all good. Thanks for reading.  
xoxo**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: I was going to update last night but me and my lawnmower had a fight. I lost.** **I'm pretty tragic, these days.  
Anywho, I hope you enjoy, and thank you, Kimmie45, as always.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 25**

 **Edward**

"Okay, I sent Ness home early. Get dressed—we're going out," Jake announces after throwing open my bedroom door and flicking on the lights.

I only groan and bury my head beneath my pillow.

"Get out of bed before I drag your pathetic arse out," he threatens me, and he's not joking.

"I'm not in the fucking mood," I mutter, my voice muffled against the mattress.

"Tough shit," he replies, walking over to me and pulling the pillow off me. "Christ, when was the last time you shaved?"

"It's school holidays," I remind him.

"So? That's no excuse to get around looking like you're a bloody dero."

"Fuck sake, Jake! I'm tired, all right!"

"Too bad!" he says, unmoved. "It's eight a-bloody-clock for Christ sake. I haven't been to bed this early since I was _born_!" Before I can argue back, he grabs me by the collar of my t-shirt jerking me upright.

"I'm not fucking kidding—piss off!" I demand, immediately shoving him off me.

"Stop being such a bitch. You've got five minutes." He snatches up my keys from my chest of drawers next to the door and holds them out to me. "I'll be waiting in the car."

"Take your own bloody car!" I yell after him, before swinging my feet to the edge of the bed and running my hands down my face. I contemplate ignoring him and crawling back under my doona. Instead, I pull myself to my feet and stagger into my bathroom.

After spraying on deodorant and shoving on a clean set of clothes, I grab my wallet and begrudgingly make my way to the garage. I'm really not in the bloody mood, but Jake's been honking the horn for the last couple of minutes. Plus, I know the bastard will drag me out if I don't come willingly.

"If you run my battery flat you'll be buying me another one," I warn him, throwing myself into the passenger seat beside him and slamming the door.

"Where do you want to go?"

"I don't give a shit—just no strip joint!"

He smirks to himself, reversing out of the garage and down the driveway.

He drives to the Broadway Bar in Haymarket. I guess because on a Friday night it's not likely to be as busy as most pubs are in the city.

I follow him inside, sitting on the stool beside him at the bar while he orders two schooners.

"You had a fight with Bella," he states the obvious after handing the bartender a twenty dollar note.

"She broke up with me," I say numbly, grabbing a handful of peanuts from the small bowl in front of us and shoving them in my mouth.

"No way!" He's sceptical. "Sure she didn't just say that out of anger?"

"She told me she never wants to see me again."

He eyes me closely for a moment, gauging me. "What happened?"

"She found out."

"About what? The car?"

"And the shrink."

"Christ, how'd that happen?"

I shrug. "I thought she was talking about the shrink, but she was talking about my car, and they both came out."

He sighs loudly. "See, what did I tell you?" he reminds me, picking up the beer the bartender places before him and taking a gulp.

"Don't give me any shit over it, Jake. I'm really not in the fucking mood," I mumble.

"She probably just needs some time to cool off," he adds.

I shrug again, but don't say anything.

He whacks my shoulder with the back of his hand. "You told her you've been seeing the same shrink since you were a kid though, right?"

I pause to briefly contemplate it; recalling how she'd stared at me with betrayal burning in her eyes. "I think so, I dunno. She was yelling. I don't know..."

"Well bloody tell her!" He sounds frustrated.

"What's the point? She'll just think it's some kind of excuse."

He sighs again. "So when'd this happen—last Friday?"

"Yeah. I pick up my beer and down half of it on one go.

"Have you spoken to her since?"

"I've rang her a whole heap of times. I've sent her messages... She's ignored them."

"So...what? You using this as an excuse to get out?

I glance at him for a moment wondering whether he's serious before scoffing behind my beer. "Yeah, sure."

"Well, come on, mate, I've used a lot less as an out in the past. You think she's not wondering the same thing?"

I slam the empty glass back down and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. "I have no idea what she's thinking."

"I can tell you one thing. If she over analyses shit like you say she does, that's exactly what she'd be thinking."

"She's ignored every attempt I've made to get in touch with her, so what do you expect me to do? Go to her house so she can throw me out again?" I demand, impatiently.

His forehead knots and he shakes his head slightly to himself before swallowing another mouthful of his beer. "What's more important, her or your pride?"

"I'm giving her a bit more time... I don't know what else to do," I admit, rubbing the back on my neck in frustration.

"So, if she continues ignoring you—that's it?"

"Look, mate, I don't fucking know!" I burst, running my hand forward through my hair before thudding it on the counter of the bar in frustration.

"How many bloody years have you been in therapy? Twenty? And you still run from confrontation!" He turns away from me and orders a second round.

"I don't want another one. I haven't eaten," I explain in a mutter.

"Want a steak sandwich?" he puts to me.

"No."

"And two steak sandwiches, mate," he orders regardless.

Releasing my breath shortly, I rub my forehead stiffly with my fingertips. It's easier to humour Jake than argue with him, but I don't have the energy for him tonight.

He swings in his stool to face me again and grips my shoulder. "Here's what you're going to do. Stop moping around like a miserable bloody bastard and go over and see her. If she puts up a fight, make her listen! Let her know you're willing to fight for her—Christ!"

"I can't," I reply. "With Bella it's not that easy."

"Bullshit!" he says, unconvinced. "You're here talking to me, aren't you? If I can get you to spill your guts, then you can get her too, 'cause no one's as uptight as you are."

"I'm not Bella."

"No, you're bloody worse," he mutters sarcastically. "Here's the deal. Either you go and talk to her, or I will."

"You do that and I'll kill you," I reply, but I'm not too concerned by it. More times than not Jake's all bluff.

He snorts. "Sure you will. You know my old lady attempted to _lecture_ me about Ness?" He changes course.

I glance up at him, not too surprised. They've been a lot more accepting of her than I expected. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, she said she was 'disappointed' in me," he said bitterly, scowling to himself. " _Disappointed_ —because, yeah, only my fucking snob-arse oldies could be disappointed in a girl like Ness."

"What'd you say?" I ask, only moderately curious.

He shrugs. "I'm their only _heir_. I've known for years they'd never cut me out, so I just told her that when it comes to my private life it's none of her bloody business. Then I warned her if she ever treats Ness like shit, she'll never see her grandkids."

" _Grandkids_?" I repeat in disbelief. "You've been going out with her for—what?"

"Seven months," he answers with a casual shrug, "but it doesn't matter to me. When you find the right woman, you suddenly find yourself wanting everything with her; getting married, kids— _everything_."

"You serious?" I ask, dubious, because it is Jake we're talking about, after all. The same person who swore holy bloody Mary he wasn't going down the aisle until he was at least forty.

"Sure," he says, simply.

"Jesus," I mumble to myself, fighting to suppress the smirk despite myself. He's sure as hell done a one-eighty.

"You don't see yourself marrying Bella...having kids?" He raises his brows.

I laugh dryly. "What kid in their right mind would want us for parents?"

He rolls his eyes. "You missed the point, mate. Do you want that with her despite all the shit you've got hanging over you at the moment?"

"I don't want kids..." I say, quietly.

"Bullshit," he says, dismissing me outright.

"I'm not going to be responsible for screwing up anyone's life..."

He groans loudly and over exaggerates it. "Bella lost her family, mate, or did you forget that?"

"As if I could forget that!" I reply, annoyed.

"Well, you reckon she hasn't got a giant bloody hole in her heart that she doesn't want to fill one day?"

I open my mouth to reply when I immediately pause. Of course she fucking would.

"Who says you'd screw up your kid, anyway? Stop being so melo-bloody-dramatic!" he adds before I can reply.

I huff, becoming impatient with him. "Maybe I just don't want to talk about fucking marriage and kids with a girl who made it clear it's over between us! Jesus fucking Christ, Jake, why don't you just twist the bloody knife in my back?"

"Do you want her back?" he asks me unfazed, and he's really beginning to irritate me.

"Of course I do!"

"Well man-fucking-up and go and get her back!"

"I'm...I'm going to give her a bit more time," I murmur, stalling, because knowing Jake, he'll insist on driving me to her house right now.

"More time for what? To screw it further up?" He scoffs. "It's your funeral, mate."

I'm beginning to think it is.

 **. . .**

Jake got me drunk. I have no idea how many beers I drank. I eventually lost count; though, with him driving I hadn't really started. I do recall at some point him dragging me to the back alley so I could puke my guts up, and I'm pretty sure I called Bella again and left a drunken message on her phone.

Or maybe it was all a nightmare. I'm not bloody sure. All I know for certain is being woken up the next morning by someone banging on the front door.

"Jake!" I attempt to call out, but my voice clogs in the back of my throat. "Fuck sake..." I utter, dragging myself to the side of the bed to bury my head in my hands. Christ, I feel awful.

Pulling myself to my feet, I make my way to the intercom with my head spinning. "Jake, you home?" I croak into it.

He's not.

The banging continues.

"All right—Jesus, hang on!" I holler, swallowing past the disgusting fucking taste in my mouth, before staggering out of my room and down the hall.

I reef the door open to Bella's brother _Jasper_ standing behind it.

"What are you doing here?" I demand, and I can't be arsed with pretences. He's a dickhead, period.

"I came to talk," he answers, eyeing me closely and arching that brow at me again.

"If you've come to give me shit over Bella, save your breath. I'm not in the fucking mood," I reply, before moving to close the door on him when he reaches out and grabs it.

"I want to talk about Bella, but I'm not going to give you shit over her. Promise."

I only glare at him, attempting to gauge his motives.

"You gonna let me in?"

"How the hell do you know where I live?"

"Wasn't hard to find you. Your address is in the phone book."

I scoff, swinging the door back impatiently to let him inside. "Follow me," I mutter.

I lead him into the family room off the kitchen, my hand cradling my stricken head. He trails behind me obviously checking the place out.

"Nice view," he acknowledges, walking closer to the back room to peer out over the pool.

"Thanks," I mumble. "Wanna drink, or something?" I offer.

He turns back me. "If you've got one."

"What do you want?"

He shrugs. "Coke?"

"Hang on."

The first thing I do is fill a glass with water and toss in a couple of Berroccas, before yanking open the fridge door and grabbing a can of coke. I'm surprised there's any left. I haven't done any grocery shopping for a while.

Jake must have...

"You look pretty seedy, mate. Rough night?" he observes with a grin, after I hand him his drink.

I utter out half a laugh, sarcastically. "Yeah."

I suddenly realise I'm still wearing the clothes I had on last night, and Christ... I drop my nose to discreetly take a whiff of myself and almost gag.

I smell like beer, cigarettes and puke.

"Hang on a sec," I tell him, before disappearing back down the hall to my room.

I take a quick shower, not giving a toss that Bella's idiot of a brother is waiting for me, and brush my teeth. Then half drying myself, I throw on a set of clean clothes and head back into the kitchen.

"Sorry...I smelled like shit," I offer up a half-arsed excuse for leaving him hanging.

"No worries," he says simply.

Grabbing my Berocca from the counter I head into the family room and slump on the lounge. He follows me in and sits down on the opposite end.

"I'm just gonna come out and say it—I'm worried about Bella. I mean, I'm _really_ worried about her." He's serious, and when I turn to gaze at him it's reflecting in his eyes. Despite the fact that he looks like he's been smoking weed since dawn.

"She's not doing good...?" I ask, though it's more of a statement, but then what did I expect?

He scoffs. "To put it mildly—look, I didn't like you. It's no secret. I thought you were a rich snob arsehole who was going to treat Bella like garbage, but...I get it. You're not."

I jerk a shoulder, annoyed by him, and I really don't want to bloody hear it. "When did you speak to her?"

"Yesterday. She called me just after lunch. She was practically hysterical, and you know what she's like—she doesn't show you that side of her." His voice softens, and it's obvious he's upset by her.

"I know..." I say, releasing my breath heavily and nodding.

"She told me everything, and mate, I don't blame you," he begins when I interrupt him.

"It's good to know she can talk to someone..." I mutter with a bitter edge to my voice.

He glances up at me and openly rolls his eyes. "You know why she can tell me stuff she hasn't told you? Because she doesn't give a shit about me like she does you. It's hardest to show the person closest to you who you really are—don't you know that?"

"Yeah..." I eventually concede, feeling immediately ashamed of myself. _Of course_ I know that.

"She thinks you'll think less of her if you know," he expands on it, but I get it.

I shake my head, because it's flat out ridiculous. "Is...is she still angry at me?"

He half laughs, dryly. "Mate, she's not angry—she's..." He stops to drag his fingers through his hair in an obvious fit of frustration. "It's like what happened with you two set off a chain of events that sucked her into this vortex of all the shit she's been trying to run from the last ten years. She has a million things racing through her mind and she doesn't know which end is up or which is down anymore. She kept saying that you made her feel too much, and she can't feel that yet. She's too scared to—she thinks it's going to kill her, as well."

I drop my head into my palm. It's still aching, but more so now that I'm bloody filling with anxiety over her. "You mean, feel...what happened when she lost her family?" I ask, my eyes on the floor.

"Yeah. She never dealt with it, and the longer she refuses to the bigger it becomes. No wonder her shrink didn't want her to see you—"

I immediately straighten up, my eyes snapping to his. " _What_? He said that? He didn't want me seeing Bella?"

"Not you, personally," he clarifies and it doesn't make me feel much better. "He knew what would happen when Bella opened her heart to someone, I guess. He wanted her to deal with what happened with her family first before she got close to anyone."

I release my breath heavily and shake my head, but I'm suddenly restless. My legs are itching to jump in my car and go to her, even if she doesn't want to see me. "If I go and see her will I make her worse?" I ask him, and I'm genuinely bloody sincere this time.

"Just explain it to her—you didn't see her shrink to go behind her back, did you?"

"Of course I fucking didn't!" I snap. "I've been seeing him since I was eleven—for fuck's sake! She never mentioned his name once."

"Well, explain it to her," he replies, "because she really needs to be seeing him, _right now_." He places deliberate emphasis on the last two words, and I pause feeling my heart stall.

"Wait...she's stopped seeing him?"

"She thinks he violated her trust, and now she can't get in to see another shrink for months. I just...I don't think she's going to make it!" His voice almost breaks and I realise how serious it is.

I lunge to my feet. "Okay, screw this, I'm going now!"

"She's not home." He pulls himself off the sofa beside me. "She's fine," he reassures me. "Alice took her to her house for the weekend."

"When's she coming back?" I ask. I can breathe a little easier knowing she's not alone, but not by much.

"Monday morning. Her boss gave her Monday off, but that's the day me and Alice are going to Queensland. Our flight leaves at twelve."

"Shit," I mutter, scratching the back of my head, distracted. "I've got work again Monday."

"Can you take a sickie?" he suggests.

"Yeah...I think I will," I murmur. There'll be hell to pay Tuesday, especially with the Year 12 boys' camp, but fuck it. I rarely take time off; they can sack me if they want. It's not as if I'm working for the bloody money.

He releases his breath in obvious relief. "Good... Fuck...I don't think I could leave her like she is. I'd be peaking the whole time over her."

"I just...I thought I'd give her some time to cool off, but she's been ignoring my calls," I relay to him, though it's more or less to myself.

"Once you get her to see everything, she'll be okay," he replies. He's not giving me much confidence, though; he doesn't sound exactly convincing.

"Did...she tell you what she almost did...?"

He's nodding his head before I can finish, his eyes dropping to the floor. "Yeah."

"You really think she could..." Christ, I can barely get the words out, but he's shaking his head this time.

"She says she'd never do it again, but I don't know...she's..." he abandons it, and I get it. There's never been adequate words to describe what happened to her.

"Her shrink thinks..." I shrug a shoulder and let it go as well, glancing up to meet his gaze again. "Hey, thanks for coming over."

He flashes me a quick grin. "No worries."

"You're not the dickhead I thought you were."

* * *

 **A/N: Jasper's really not the arsehole he was coming across as. He has an inherent need for family connection and he really cares about Bella. He's just been projecting his insecurities onto Edward over what he went through after Bella's family were killed. :)  
** **You can let me know how you liked/disliked, or not. All good, and thanks for reading.**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I meant to update last night, but I've been going through Because of You, making sure there's no contraband after some snivelling little arsehole reported it. There's nothing reportable, of course, because anyone who knows me knows I don't get explicit. I'm erring on the side of caution, though. A head's up because I'm not in the mood for anyone's shitty behaviour right now. I WILL edit anonymous arsehole flames. That includes yours, my special little friend, who reads all my chapters religiously, [ANs included] only to insert your insecurities at the end. Get a hobby. One that makes you feel worth some shit, because while you're obviously not aware of it, your fragile ego is only as blatant AF.  
Anywho, Thanks Kim, as always, for being an all round awesome person and beta, and to Sammy for just being your crazy self. ****And to my very gorgeous friends Leslie and Jamie. Thinking of you two girls and praying hard for your recovery.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 26**

 **Bella.**

Why is everyone so bloody convinced I'm about to off myself? First, it was my turncoat bloody shrink, then it was Edward, and now it's my brother.

Okay, talking to Jasper did make me feel better; a little bit, anyway. It was enough to put a halter on my tears and to at least quiet my mind so I could get a couple of hours sleep, but he wasn't really able to resolve anything. That's my job; if I can only figure out where I'm supposed to start.

I feel like I'm walking around in a constant state of shock and panic, only I'm not sure why. The only thing I do know is I have to work things out with Edward. The bloody shrink was wrong. I have no intention of pushing him away. I miss him, and I'm pretty sure fighting with him is the source of my underlying panic. I feel like he was the only thing in my life that made sense. Edward is the man my mother always told me to find. The man I used to dream about; maybe not in the embodiment of a Cullen, though. That one definitely knocked me for a six.

Christ, I want to call him up and ask him to come over—more than anything—but I can't.

I can't, and the ridiculous thing is I don't even know why. Every time I even contemplate it, I fall to pieces.

Okay, maybe I do know why a little bit. Edward now represents my heart. He broke it open, and if I return to him I'm going to be swamped in all the pain and hurt I drove away when I shut it off. And because my heart's apparently defective, what I feel for Edward is going to swamp me just as equally.

Three years in therapy, I have been somewhat paying attention.

Edward always told me I looked at him like he scared me to death, and I think that's what he meant. He does scare me, but it's a fear that doesn't stem from anything rational. It's a thousand things and its nothing. It's the idea of seeing that ridiculously handsome face every day of my life, and then it's of never seeing him again. It's how he makes my heart both smile and stutter in fear. All at the same time.

It's worrying myself sick over him; over the pain he can't nearly conceal behind his intense gaze, and the idea of something happening to him. It's worrying most of all that I'm the one hurting him, and the burden of what carrying it around does to me.

And it's the idea of him seeing me. _Really_ seeing me; my flaws and demons included.

I should be able to shoulder it. Christ, I lost my family and survived. I should be able to deal with this—to be able to function like an adult and have a boyfriend, but I bloody can't.

"When you close your heart off, Bella, you can't pick and choose when and how to open it again." That's what Dr Jenks always told me was his reasoning why Edward could be detrimental to me.

 _Detrimental_. As if he was some kind of exotic virus.

Maybe I'm naïve, or arrogant, but I honestly didn't think Edward could pose such a danger to me.

I still don't.

Dr Jenks thinks it's not a matter of just opening my heart back up again, it's resolving the issues of why I closed it in the first place. In other words, deal with my family's death once and for all.

Apparently, I didn't properly go through the grieving process and _find acceptance_ , and now it's stunted my emotional health.

He's right. I know he's right. I didn't. I had no one, I was alone, and on top of struggling with three years of memory loss, I was being psychologically fucked by possibly the most evil woman in the southern hemisphere.

Aside from Edward's mother, that is.

All my energy was consumed by trying to survive her. When I finally escaped, I was dealing with my memories returning and realising the reality of everything my grandmother had used to keep me down were true. Jasper, my father's mistress, my _father,_ me. Everything...

That was the last time I let it get control of me, and I swore it would never happen again. I have to believe I survived that bloody car accident for a reason, and I want Charlie, Sam and my mother to be proud of me. Even my father, because apparently I have to learn to forgive him, on top of everything else.

I know one thing. After five years of living under my grandmother's roof, I at least have a lot more empathy for him than I had before. I don't think the rest of it will be as easy, though.

Alice and Jasper have strong-armed me into staying at Alice's for the weekend. I only accepted because it's a better alternative than being alone with my thoughts. It's not that I don't enjoy Jasper's company, and Alice has been my BFF since I moved back to Sydney and started working for my father's lawyer, it's just...being around them makes me think of Edward.

Maybe that's a positive thing, though. I need to think about him in the context of reality and not on misconceptions and illusions. The reality is, we had a fight; a fight we have yet to properly resolve. He is not the source of my pain and heart ache, no matter how much the ghosts of my past and my battered psyche wants me to believe it.

Christ, if only I knew how hard it would be to miss him. It hurts. It _physically_ hurts. I'm crying myself to sleep over him exactly like I once did for my mother.

So, why can't I just get past all this crap and go to him?

Friday night Alice and Jasper stayed over—In my bed. With me. As if that wasn't awkward enough. Of course it was only made worse by the fact that I woke at some ungodly hour screaming out incoherent ramblings into the dead of the night. It was then topped off by the fact that when I grabbed my phone to check the time, I realised Edward had called me and left a message.

Jasper suggested I listen to it, which only left me staring at him wondering whether he was fully awake, or stoned.

"Maybe you should hear him out, Bells." _Bells_. That's his new nickname for me.

It's completely daggy, but at the same time, oddly endearing. In return, he asked me to call him _Jazz_ , because Jazz is his DJ name. Alice already calls him by it, but I'm not sure I can in all seriousness.

Bells and Jazz...Christ, we sound like a bloody Christmas pageant.

He has a name for Edward, too. _Richie Rich_. He thinks I don't know about it, and he's lucky I don't clock him right in the _jazz_.

The truth is, I wanted to listen to Edward's message and Jasper had given me the excuse I was subconsciously looking for. before I was really aware of what I was doing, I called my message bank. I've saved every one of Edward's voice mails. I can't bring myself to delete them. This one, however, I might have to.

"Heeeey, Bella..." I realised straight away he was drunk. Not just drunk, but bloody pissed out of his mind. "I love you..." he says, his voice hopelessly slurred, and I can hear another voice in the background egging him on. Jake, I quickly gather. "And...I miss you. I miss you so much. Please call me, Bella. I'm sorry. You're right. I fucked up, badly. I just...I can't...live w-without you." He paused and I overheard Jake's voice again. It sounded like, "Tell her about your shrink", because then Edward added, "I just wanted to help you, Bella. I needed help to help you..." Jake's voice interrupted again and then the message cut out.

I immediately broke into tears and cried until I couldn't breathe, then I threw up and cried again 'til morning.

This is when Alice and _Jazz_ decided I was staying with them for the weekend, like I'm on bloody suicide watch, or something.

They went for breakfast just after nine this morning and spent more time than my patience could withstand attempting to persuade me into joining them.

"Why don't you just buy a bloody Nanny-Cam and put me under twenty-four hour surveillance!" I snapped, before promptly ordering them out of my house. I know they meant well and I was acting like an infant throwing a tantrum, but I haven't had parents in ten years and I don't need any now.

They promised me they'd be back around eleven, but it's barely forty minutes later when they return.

"That was bloody quick!" I burst, yanking open the front door in a fit of impatience only to discover Jake on my doorstep with an awkward smile forming across his face.

"Hey, Bella," he greets me warmly, bending down to kiss my cheek.

"H-hi," I stammer, my expression no doubt turning blank. "What are you doing here?"

It's a stupid question, because it's obvious why he's here.

"Can we talk?" He asks, glancing behind me into my house.

"Sure," I mumble, moving aside for him to enter.

He steps into the hall and shoves his hands into the pockets of his Adidas track pants, his smile broadening. He's taller than Edward.

"Do you want anything to drink?" I offer.

He shakes his head. "Nah, I'm good."

At the sound of an unfamiliar voice in the house, Oppa suddenly comes charging out from the bedroom and starts barking at him.

"Oppa, stop it!" I order him. "Go to bed." He begrudgingly obeys, returning to my room and growling to himself. I shut the door after him before turning back to Jake. "Sorry...he thinks he's a Pitbull."

He grins as though he's fighting the urge to laugh. "It's fine."

"You wanna sit in the lounge room?" I suggest, motioning to the front room.

"Sure."

I sit on the sofa facing the fireplace and Jake sits on the one aligning the wall, opposite the front window.

"Edward said you don't own a TV," he remarks, as an ice-breaker I can only assume, but I'm immediately uncomfortable.

"Yeah..." I shrug, glancing away from him.

"Sorry," he apologises and he sounds sincere.

"Why?" I put to him.

"I made you uncomfortable."

"God, I'll live. You want to talk about Edward, right?" Because why beat around the bush.

"That obvious?" He's kind of charming, and it's not hard to work out why girls, for the most part, have always swooned over him.

"Why else would you be here?"

He nods and concedes. "Yeah. Only because Edward...he backs down too easily. He'll avoid a confrontation—you know that about him, right?"

"Hmmm," I contemplate it, immediately recalling the time not too long ago when Edward waited on my doorstep for two hours. I have to fight the smile from twitching at my lips. "He was in the beginning, but not so much now. He can be pretty stubborn."

"Yeah?" He sounds surprised, and somewhat sceptical.

I nod. "You don't believe me?"

"It's not that..." he shrugs a shoulder and seems to abandon it. "He argues with me all the time, but if I'm pissed off at him, or he is at me, he'll remove himself. You were pretty angry at him, yeah?"

"Yeah..." I answer quietly. To put it mildly.

"Did you get his message last night?"

"Yes," I say wryly, and in return he smirks before his expression turns sombre.

"Even drunk he wouldn't defend himself—and he's always been like that. It drives me mental, but...I can't just sit around this time."

"So, you want to explain on his behalf?"

"Well...yeah." He half shrugs again, and I release my breath resigned this time.

"Okay, go ahead..." I mumble dropping my forehead to my outstretched hand. I'm not sure I want to hear it, but on the other hand I desperately want to. I want a reason to not be angry at him anymore.

"Well, first, Edward's not seeing your shrink, you're seeing his. He's been seeing Dr Jenks since he was in sixth grade."

This catches my attention, and I immediately straighten up in surprise. " _What_?"

Jake might have just given me that reason.

"Yeah. He did tell you that, didn't he?"

"Umm...I'm not sure..." He did try and tell me something to that effect, but I wouldn't listen.

"He had no idea you were seeing him, too, Bella. He really didn't," he says, his voice softening, and it's obvious how much he wants me to believe him.

I nod, and release a guilt-laden breath. Of course he didn't. I knew there had to be a reasonable explanation. "Does he still see him?"

He shakes his head. "Not really. He started going again for some advice on how to help you. The shrink figured out who he was talking about but told him multiple times he couldn't give him any details about you. Edward was talking about you, not the other way around, but the shrink did let something slip..." he pauses, and I nod knowing what he's referring to. "After that, he told Edward he couldn't help him anymore."

"Christ..." I mumble, chewing on my bottom lip. Of all the bloody coincidences...

"And you know why he lied about his car, don't you?"

I glance up at him again and nod. "Yes."

"You scared him to death, Bella. He never wanted to see you like that again."

"I know, I get it. Bloody hell..." I'm impatient at myself.

"Throw him a bone, okay? He's a good guy."

"I know he is, but..."

"But?"

"But...I don't know. I don't know what I feel anymore..." I explain, the frustration becoming obvious in my tone.

"Do you want to get back together with him?" he asks me outright.

"He deserves someone better than me," I mumble, breaking his gaze.

He snorts. "So, that's how you're going to play it? 'It's me and not you', right? Be straight with me, Bella. He doesn't want someone else, he wants you. Do you want him?"

"Of course, I do!" I say a little too sharply. "But I'll hurt him. I don't know where my head's at anymore. I just...I don't know..."

"Bella..."

"What?"

He smiles sadly, and shakes his head slightly to himself as if he finds the sight of me pitiful. "You look just as miserable as he is."

"I am miserable," I admit, scoffing softly to myself.

"Well, give him a call. He's probably going to spend the day hungover, but maybe you can hold the bucket for him," he says lightly flashing me a semi-amused grin, and despite myself I almost laugh.

"Does he hate me?" I ask in a small voice, and I feel just as bloody small.

He snorts again, but this time out of some kind of irony. "Edward can't hate anyone—except for his mother, of course."

"She made him that way, didn't she?" I ask, tactfully.

"What way? Him believing he's always wrong?" I nod numbly in answer. "Yeah, but he's a lot better than what he used to be."

"God, how bad was he?"

He's talking about a part of Edward I'm not familiar with and I don't like it. It's making me feel possessive, which is ridiculous. But it's my own fault. I had nine months to get to know him. Instead, I kept him deliberately out and fed him breadcrumbs.

"She done a real number on him. He had no sense of self-worth. She treated him like crap and he started to believe he was. It wasn't just the apologising. He literally felt like nothing he did was worth shit. His grandfather had him in therapy three days a week for years."

"Christ..." I whisper, while that maternal instinct that Edward brings out in me begins to kick in until I'm simmering with anger.

"You know when we were kids and we played cricket together, he not only apologised for bowling, or catching me out, but he often reacted as if I was going to beat the shit out of him for it."

"I know that story," I admit softly, feeling my brow knot as I recall it. "The cricket bat story, I mean..."

He scoffs and there's a bitter edge to it while his expression darkens. "The cricket bat is the tip of the iceberg."

"God...do I really want to know?" I feel like shying away from him. I'm not sure I can bear knowing anything worse.

"If you want to understand him," he replies, gazing at me steadily, and I feel like it's some kind of indirect accusation.

"He told me about his Pop," I admit, glancing away from him, "but he hasn't told me anything more about his mother."

"He doesn't think you want to know more about him," he answers candidly, and Christ...

"Of course I do!" I'm lying. The truth is I didn't for a whole multitude of reasons, but for the most part, because I'm a coward who prefers to keep my head buried in the sand.

He drops his head and sort of smiles to himself for a moment, and I'm not sure what emotion he's trying to relay. "I'm going to be honest with you, Bella." His voice is serious.

"Okay..." I reply reluctantly, practically cowering from him.

"He thought if he told you more, you'd use it as an excuse to keep the focus on him and away from you."

My mouth falls open in stunned silence, but I'm immediately filling with shame, because he's right. In the beginning I would have, but not now; of that I'm positive.

"Bloody hell..." I murmur, subtly clearing the emotion that's aching its way up my throat. Dropping my forehead to my palm, as an excuse to avoid Jake's gaze, I rub it stiffly. All this time Edward could see straight through me.

"He's also worried it'll be too much for you. You're the first real relationship he's ever had. He's struggling. A lot."

I half laugh dryly, raising my eyes to meet his. "He's not the only one."

He eyes me closely again, but this time there's confusion in his expression. "I've known Edward for sixteen years, Bella. When he was in high school if it wasn't for you I would have been convinced he was gay."

" _Why_?" I ask, unsure of his meaning.

"All those girls who used to follow him around? He didn't give a shit about them, but that just made his reputation stick more. It made him come across as arrogant and cocky, but he couldn't stand to be touched even back them. Christ, he only went out with Lauren Mallory because I made him. I have no idea how she got him in the sack."

"So...why didn't you think he was gay?" I'm still not following him.

"Because he was in love with you."

" _What_...?"

"You didn't know?"

"No...I mean, he asked me out just before his HSC, but before that..."

He smirks. "I forgot, you were pretty blind back then."

I shake my head, partly to rid myself of the growing confusion, and partly because he's frustrating. "He always looked really uncomfortable around me."

"Yeah, because you made him nervous. Remember the time I pushed him into you in the library?"

"Yeah." As if I could forget.

"That was deliberate. He'd been pining after you for years, and I knew he'd never have the balls to go up and talk to you, so, I gave him a nudge." He grins and winks at me.

I gaze at him for a moment, not sure I believe him. Edward as sappy as he is wouldn't have shied away from telling me this himself, and yet I know nothing about it. "Edward was too afraid to come and talk to me? Edward—voted most likely to be named Time Magazine's Bachelor of the year?"

"Yeah," he replies, straight-faced.

I snort, unconvinced. "Sure."

"Do you have a self-image problem, Bella? Because you're not ugly," he says, and, bloody hell, if Edward thinks I'm candid, I hate to think how he lives with Jake.

"Christ, tell me what you really think?"

He smirks again. "Edward said you were pretty blunt, so I figured I could just be open about everything."

I shake my head. "No, I mean you misinterpreted my meaning. Edward had no problem coming up to me last October to chat with me in my car."

"Yeah, twelve years of therapy later. Look, Bella, all I know is before Edward started seeing you he wouldn't let a woman put a fingernail on him. Then the first time I saw the two of you together, you had your hands all over him and he was completely relaxed. I barely recognised him. You're good for him, but I think you got it wrong, too."

"What do you mean?"

"You thought all he needed was sex, and he did, but he also needed that trust back. You gave it to him."

I feel my cheeks immediately burn, and Christ, what had Edward told him? "Jake, there's being blunt and then there's having no filter!" I protest.

He chuckles. "Sorry."

I shake my head to myself. Talk about getting caught between the bro-code. "I still don't understand. How did I get it wrong with him?"

"You're pushing him away, aren't you?"

"I'm not!" I insist, adamantly.

"Then why are you ignoring him?"

"Because..." But I can't answer, because it's not that I don't know, but that I barely understand it myself. "I don't know..."

"Bullshit, Bella." His voice suddenly hardens. "You look like you haven't slept all week and you've been crying all night."

I drop my head in defeat. I'm tired, I don't have any defences, and he's right.

"Jesus, this isn't hard," he continues. "Yeah, you've both got shit to work through, but better to do it together. Do you want me to call him?"

"We're not in high school anymore." I mumble, but I kind of do actually.

"Yet, here I am trying to sort out your relationship like we are."

Christ, he really can flip from one emotion to the next without blinking. He strikes me as the kind of person who'd be exhausting to live with.

"I...I have every intention of calling him. I just...I'm just trying to deal with everything."

"Hmm...I call bullshit. I think you're using it as an out."

"Christ, Jake!" I snap, losing my patience with him. I'm starting to suspect they're all in on it together. Him, Jasper and Alice.

"Bella, just ring him fucking up. Get this shit sorted out so I don't have to look at his miserable face every bloody day, okay?" He pulls himself to his feet. "Anyway, I've gotta go to the gym—and Christ sake, don't tell him I was here. You know how neurotic he is. I'll never hear the end of it." He makes his way to the door and I hurry ahead of him to open it.

"Thanks," I mutter, but I'm grateful he came even if it was hard to hear.

"Think about it, okay?" He bends down again to kiss my cheek goodbye. "Ness wants to have dinner sometime. Call her when you've sorted everything out."

I scoff softly beneath my breath. "Okay."

I close the door on him knowing this changes everything. I have no right to be mad at Edward anymore, and I want to call him, so badly, even if it's just to hear his voice.

So, why can't I?

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading xoxo**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Whoever nominated Vertigo in the Twilight awards, I love you. I think it's all kinds of gorge that you think that much of my writing, but please don't feel the need to vote for me. I don't like to participate in those things. They tend to be little more than popularity contests, and I don't do popularity at all. Seriously, I'm too much of a black sheep I repel it more than anything, and it's not why I write. Having people from all around the world read and review my stories is enough for me. I promise.**  
 **Thank you, Kimmie45 for taking the time to edit and always being super sweet and encouraging. I love you. And SammyHale, too of course.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 27**

 **Edward**

Jasper leaves and just as I'm trying to sleep off this bloody hangover, Jake calls.

"Mate, you awake?" Christ, he says the dumbest shit sometimes.

"No," I answer sarcastically, "I'm talking in my sleep."

"Geez, you're a testy bastard when you're hungover," he replies. "Anyway, listen up, Bella called me. She wants you to go over and see her."

"What?" I ask, sitting immediately upright in bed, my voice almost failing. "I thought she wasn't home."

"Huh?" he says, sounding confused. "She's home."

"How do you know?"

"She called me, that's why."

I'm immediately suspicious. "She called _you_."

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Why didn't she call me?"

"How the hell would I know? Maybe because the pair of you can't get your shit together."

"Jasper was just here. He told me Bella's at Alice's house."

"Who the hell is Alice?"

"Her...Jasper's girlfriend."

"She's at home; take my word for it."

"And she wants me to go and see her?" I'm not convinced.

"Yes—Jesus!"

"How'd she get your number?"

He pauses for a moment. "I dunno, actually. Maybe she got it from Ness."

"Are you fair-dinkum, Jake?" I'm serious and still bloody sceptical.

"Mate, I'm not bullshitting. I swear. She called me up and asked me to ask you to come and see her."

"At her house?"

"For fuck sake!" he bursts, obviously losing patience. "If she was anywhere else don't you think she'd mention that?"

"Okay, not so fucking loud!" I demand, dropping my aching head into my palm. His bloody voice is like a jackhammer.

"I'm not a prick. I wouldn't fuck with you when it comes to this, so pull your head out of your arse and get over there." He hangs up and I'm left staring into space, the phone still to my ear unsure what to make of it.

Why the hell would Bella call Jake?

There's only one way to find out, and clicking into my messages I send her one: **Hey, Bella. Jake just told me you want me to come and see you. Is this true?**

She answers seconds later: **Do you think Jake would bullshit about something like that?**

Christ, _what_? Of all the bloody times for her to be cryptic.

 **Of course it's true** , she adds a couple of moments later. **Are you coming?**

 **I'll be there in 5.**

Practically leaping off my bed, I head straight into my bathroom to inspect myself in the mirror. Christ, I look like shit and I need to shave.

Quickly lathering my face in foam, I run the razor over my skin, cutting the crap out of myself in the process, before splashing on aftershave. After, I throw half a litre of mouthwash down my throat and gargle it before spraying deodorant beneath my shirt.

Naturally, I can't find my bloody keys, and after upending my room and coming up empty-handed, I head to Jake's. They're not in there either, and in a fit of impatience I call him back.

"Where the fuck are my keys?!" I holler down the phone at him.

I'm met with silence before he eventually answers, "Ah shit...hang on, let me think..."

"Christ sake, Jake!"

"Ah, crap, I've got them..." he admits reluctantly, and I'm bloody fuming.

"Jesus Fu—"

"Okay, hold your horses, I'll be there in a sec."

"Well, hurry up!" I snap, hanging up on him.

Clicking back into my messages, I send another one to Bella, **Sorry, Bella, I'm going to be late. Jake has my car keys.**

 **Do you want me to come and get you?** she replies.

 **No, it's fine. He's a few minutes away. I'll be there soon.**

I'm waiting for Jake on the driveway when he pulls up, slides down his window and tosses my keys to me. I catch them in my left hand and press the sensor to open the garage door.

"Sorry, mate," he calls out as he drives back down the street.

I hold up my hand in acknowledgement before unlocking my car and sliding in behind the wheel.

I'm probably still over the limit, I realise, but it's not about to stop me. I reverse out of the driveway and pull up in front of Bella's house a few minutes later.

The moment she opens her door, and taking me by complete surprise, she throws herself against me and immediately bursts into tears. She's wearing a grey fleece jumper and blue-checked, flannel pyjama bottoms, and she's a complete mess.

"I'm _so_ sorry, Edward," she sobs, wrapping her arms tighter around my waist and pushing her face into my shoulder.

"Hey..." I say softly, pulling her further against my chest. "You've got nothing to be sorry about," I assure her.

She shakes her head and starts to ramble but she's crying uncontrollably, her chest repeatedly shuddering, and I can barely make out a single word.

"Come back inside," I attempt to coax her. She's hanging onto me refusing to let go and it's starting to rain.

She won't budge, and I eventually hoist her up into my arms and carry her into her bedroom. She's crumbling before me, and I can't stand it. I've seen Bella cry before and I've seen her out of her mind in panic, but I've never seen her like this. She's falling apart.

I lay her down on her bed and she practically pulls me on top of her before burying her head against my chest. She's shaking uncontrollably, her hands grabbing fistfuls of my shirt tugging me closer to her, and seeing her like this is ripping my heart out.

I hold her against me, but no matter what I say she only continues to crumble in my arms.

"Bella— _please_. Tell me how to help you," I appeal to her, pulling us both upright so I can see her properly.

She continues to cling to me before slowly pulling back to gaze up at me. Tears are blinding her vision, and she clumsily attempts to wipe her face dry even as they continue streaming down her cheeks. "I-I-I f-feel like I'm f-falling," she stammers, her chest jerking repeatedly.

"You're _not_ falling," I insist, cupping my hands to the sides of her face so she'll look at me; she keeps avoiding my gaze. "I'm not going to let that happen."

She attempts to shake her head, reaching up to remove my hands from her before closing her eyes, while her tears continue to fall endlessly beneath her lashes.

"Hey...look at me," I instruct her in a gentle voice. "Bella..."

She doesn't; instead, she drops her face to her hands. "I...I d-don't know w-what I'm d-doing."

"You don't have to do anything," I assure her, tucking loose strands of her hair away from her face and attempting to remove her hands, but she refuses.

"I just...I can't s-stop it," she eventually replies, so choked by emotion it causes her shoulders to tremble.

"Then don't, baby. You can cry all night, but it's okay to let it out," I promise her.

She shakes her head again. "I-I can't, Ed-Edward. Just...p-please don't l-leave m-me again."

Slipping my hand to the back of her neck, I pull her back to me and press my lips to her forehead. She's shaking uncontrollably, and Christ, I'm beginning to feel bloody useless. "I'm not going anywhere, but Bella, holding it in isn't doing you any good. Just let it go. I promise you it'll be okay."

Again, she only shakes her head, her sobs increasing and the fear in the tenor of them is real. Then finally removing her hands from her face, she slumps against me.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," I reiterate, running my fingers through her hair. "I _promise_ you."

"You p-promise?" she asks, her voice muffled against my chest.

"Of course I do."

She pulls back again, her tear-flooded eyes once again meeting mine. She's a complete wreck and she's wheezing heavily.

"Where's your inhaler?" I ask, wiping away her tears with my thumbs, but the more I dry them, the more they fall.

Her chest shudders, and I'm not sure she heard me. "Ed-ward?"

"Yeah?"

"I-if I let th-this out, will y-you stay w-with m-me?" she asks, her expression so lost and helpless she suddenly appears really bloody young.

"Of course I will," I swear to her because it's the most ridiculous thing she's ever asked me.

She sets her eyes on me, fully this time, and while they're overrun with fear they're also pleading with me. "I m-mean, will y-you stay t-to the e-end?"

"Bella, I'm not going anywhere," I reply seriously, bringing my knuckles to her cheek. "Even if you scream at me to get out again."

She almost laughs, but I'm not sure she's capable of it at the moment. "Okay..." she says in a fractured voice, and her breathing is becoming more restricted. Her lips are turning blue again.

"Here," I murmur, pulling the inhaler out of my pocket and bringing it to her lips

She pushes it away. "No...not y-yet. I...I don't feel very w-well."

"You okay? You want to lie down again?" I ask, angling my head so I can see her face.

"I don't kn-know..." She hiccups before shuffling to the edge of the bed. "I need to be close to the toilet," she suddenly utters, her voice losing volume.

In sudden panic, not wanting her to throw up over me again, I scoop her up into my arms and hastily get her to the bathroom. Lowering her down in front of the toilet, I gather her hair up in my hand and out of her face. She slumps on her knees and rests her head against the seat, groaning faintly.

She doesn't throw up, thank Christ, because the way I'm feeling I'd probably join her. What she does do is close her eyes while her chest continues to quake, turning her breathing from bad to worse.

"Baby, you really need your inhaler." She's beginning to worry me. She's starting to look terrible.

She softly moans, keeping her eyes closed.

I glance around the bathroom, realising there isn't one sitting on her vanity where she usually keeps a spare. Pulling myself to my feet, I quickly retrieve the inhaler I'd brought with me from her bedroom.

I manage to get her to take it, but she's unable to take deep enough breaths for it to be effective. I try several times, before all but giving up, I stand and turn on the hot water in her shower. In a matter of minutes the room is filled with steam while I kneel behind her and repeatedly rub her back.

"What are you doing?" she asks me weakly after a moment.

"I don't know what else to do," I confess bending forward to bury my face against her damp hair. "You're going to have to help me out here."

She makes a breathless sound that I think is meant to be some kind of laugh, before clearing her throat. "Christ, Edward, I d-don't have cystic fibrosis."

I smile, pushing it through my nose more out of relief, because while she sounds exhausted, her wheezing is slowly starting to fade and her tears are beginning to dry. "You feeling better?"

"Hmm..." she whimpers.

I plant my lips to the side of her neck. Her skin is warm. Maybe a little bit too much. "You okay to go back into your room? I'll make you a coffee."

She hums softly again and half nods her head. Helping her to her feet, I wrap my arm around her and lead her out.

She crawls on the bed before slumping to her side with her back to me. Oppa immediately jumps up beside her while I head to the kitchen, turning off the shower in the bathroom as I do.

"You made me black coffee?" she puts to me, flashing me a dubious look after I return a couple of minutes later and carefully hand her the steaming mug.

I sit beside her and place the coffee I made for myself on the bedside table. "Ness told me it will help your asthma," I admit in a mumble.

She breaks into a genuine smile for the first time, despite the fact that she looks shattered. "You're adorable." Her voice is croaky.

I return her smile, reaching out to cup my hand to the side of her face when I pause. "Bella..."

She shakes her head. "You don't have to say it," she says in a quiet voice, cutting me off.

"Say what?"

"Jake came and seen me," she discloses, her eyes dropping from mine.

" _What_...?" I ask, my tone automatically stiffening.

"He told me not to tell you, but...I think you should know how much of a good friend he really is," she explains. Her voice is practically emotionless, but as if to contradict herself, she smiles again.

"What did he tell you?" I sigh.

"He explained about your shrink...about _our_ shrink," she corrects herself.

"Christ, he threatened me he'd come and talk to you," I mutter more or less to myself, before dragging my fingers back through my hair. "I'm sorry, Bella."

She scoffs, but this time she sounds annoyed. "Why are you apologising? I'm the one who should be sorry," she says, her eyes dropping from mine again to fix on the coffee in her hands – which she's yet to drink. I immediately shake my head to assure her she has nothing to be sorry about when she softly adds. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I hesitate for a fraction. "I...I thought it'd just sound like I was making excuses."

"But...I thought it was true," she says, as her voice wavers and she once more locks her wide eyes with mine. "Why didn't you fight, Edward? Why didn't you get angry and set me straight?"

"I don't know," I admit, releasing a heavy breath. "I thought it was best if I just diffused the situation and gave you some time to cool down." It sounds like bullshit now and she's right. I should have made her listen. I should have fought harder for her.

She stares at me for the longest time, and I watch as her eyes slowly fill with tears again. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do," I whisper.

"Then please stop... _tip-toeing_ around me." Her tears spill over and I hastily reach out to wipe them away.

"I just..." I shake my head. "Bella...I'm not sure what to do with you sometimes." I confess reluctantly, because I don't.

She wipes at her face roughly, and Christ she's beautiful; even now when she looks like a complete mess. "I'd...I'd rather you pushing me and fight-fighting with me than trying to protect me from everything," she stammers.

I nod, dropping my head, feeling like a pathetic fucking prick. "I'm sorry."

Leaning over me she places her mug on the side table next to mine before turning to me, and in the next second she climbs on my lap.

"Edward?" she asks me in a soft voice. Her tears are increasing again until she's forced to pause and inhale them back. "Will...you take my pain and hold it for me?"

"I'll do anything for you," I promise her as her hands cup the sides of my neck and face before her lips close over mine.

"Take it away... Please take it away... I can't...do this," she pleads with me, her voice completely breaking. She opens her mouth and kisses me again, deeper this time until I'm tasting the saltiness of her tears on her lips and the dampness of her face as she presses it to mine.

"Tell me what to do," I plead with her to help me understand, taking her face in my hands and moving her slightly back. "Whatever you need, I'll do it."

She shakes her head as tears flood her dark eyes and fall endlessly down her face again. "Just...make it go away..."

Running my hands beneath her jumper and around her waist, I pull her to me. She practically slumps against my chest, her hands curved around my neck as she angles my face to kiss me.

Like it usually does with Bella, the pace moves so fast I often struggle to keep up with it. She tears my shirt over my head while I clumsily do the same with hers.

"Tell me what you want to go away, baby," I murmur, planting my lips down her neck to her collar bone, my hands running over her breasts and around her back. Her skin is warm, _really_ warm.

"Everything..." she replies in a small, shaky voice as her fingers trail over my face and into my hair. "Everything but you, Ed..." She kisses me and my name gets lost on her lips as she slowly and repeatedly merges them with mine.

Grabbing her around the waist, I roll her off me and lay her on her back before leaning over her on my elbows. But, despite the exposed softness of her upper body, her flushed cheeks, and her too glistening eyes that are swimming with a bottomless pit of pain, I'm finding it hard to fully absorb myself with her. I'm still hungover, and she's still struggling to breathe clearly. I can't concentrate when I can hear the raspy sounds coming from her lungs while feeling it vibrate from her chest.

"Sure you're okay?" I ask her, my voice straining from the grit of arousal and my struggle to maintain it for her sake, as well as my increasing concern for her.

"No," she replies in a fractured voice, her tone almost dry and humourless.

I bury my face into her neck, pressing my lips repeatedly to her hot, supple skin, but I'm holding back. She's trembling, and it's not because she's cold.

"Bella..." I attempt to pull back, but gripping my shoulders she holds me still.

"Just...go slow," she murmurs, her hand sliding to the back of my neck where she pulls me down to kiss me.

Slow... I'm not sure that word is a part of our vocabulary, but for her I'll do anything.

After pulling her pyjama bottoms from her, I make my way back to her, kissing every inch of her flesh from her thighs up. I focus on her and only her, her lips, her neck, her breasts...but at such a delayed pace, my body only succumbs to hers more rapidly. I thought it'd be the opposite, and almost subconsciously I find myself pulling hastily at my belt to reef my jeans off.

" _Slowly,_ " she prompts me, her voice barely audible against my ear after I laid my body over her and pressed my mouth to hers again.

"Slowly," I echo her, closing my eyes against the energy multiplying within me. "I'm sorry..."

Her breath shoots from her nose and when her lips merge with mine I can feel the smile on them.

I kiss her. That's all I do. My hands following where my mouth travels until her skin burns hot and dampens; while I'm almost quaking with barely contained arousal. But still I focus on her, tuning into her signals, allowing her to set the lead, until almost painfully slow, and without words, I feel that shift within her.

My biggest fear going into a physical relationship with Bella was that I wouldn't know what the hell I was doing and I'd _miss_. But it never happened. I slip effortlessly inside her now just as I did the first time; without the need to navigate my way clumsily around her body. I never stopped to consider it, until now, because I realise Bella has always adapted herself naturally to me. She meets me halfway, and doesn't allow me to get _lost_. It was never as one-sided as I always feared. She moves, I follow; I act, she reacts. She has always been in harmony with me, no matter how inexperienced or awkward I've been with her.

This is when the most stupid bloody revelation comes to my mind; she was saved for me.

Of course I'm so out of my mind horny, I immediately tell her, and it's not until I hear my own voice utter it into the space between us that I immediately tense.

"I...I'm sorry—" I blurt, hastily attempting to take it back when the words die on my lips. Bella's only gazing up at me, her expression undecipherable. She's visibly moved, but she almost appears in shock.

"Why?" she asks me, her voice soft and wavering.

"Because..." I begin when she lifts her head and takes my lips in hers, and then again before she whispers against them.

"If I was saved for you, then you belong to me."

"And you belong to me," I reply, quickly becoming lost in her mouth and her small, flushed body beneath me.

"Slowly," she reminds me again, sinking her palms into my chest between us, and this is when I feel it. The vibration of her restricted breath.

I immediately pause, and without pulling myself from her, I reach out and grab the inhaler from the bedside table. She takes it from me drawing it into her lungs a few times before a smirk pulls on her lips.

"When he stops in the middle of sex to get me my inhaler, I have definitely found a keeper," she teases me, and her entire face warms despite how pale and tear-streaked it is.

Grinning, I watch as her expression echoes mine, while knowing if she laughs it's all over.

She pulls me back to her, and I close my eyes trailing behind her as I get my bearings again.

Slow...she wants me to go slow, and I realise the longer I take her pain, the longer she doesn't have to feel it.

And the longer I can keep her with me.

* * *

 **A/N: Geez that ended all cheesy. Anywho, thank you for reading. Let me know how you liked, or didn't...**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: just dropping this off then going to pick up the snots for school. Hope you enjoy! Love you all.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 28**

 **Bella.**

Sex, unfortunately, doesn't anesthetise me nearly as long as I'd hoped it would, despite how amazing it was. Christ, Edward's a bloody natural. He's really turning pro fast, but still, the instant my body starts to cool, and my breathing calms, I begin to feel it. The tentacles of panic coiling around my heart. It's accompanied by an imagery straight out of a horror movie; appendages of black smoke invading my body through every orifice-my mouth, my ears, my eyes...

How could a week without Edward plunge me into so much darkness so quickly? I thought once we made up I'd be okay. I thought I could push back on all this...repressed emotion—or whatever the hell it is—force it back into containment and go back to the way things were. Maybe I was naïve, because now that it's escaped I no longer have control over it. It has control over me. It has me over a bloody barrel, and I'm not ready to deal with it yet. At least I'm not ready to deal with it on this magnitude, all at once. The idea of it is almost as horrifying.

"Edward?" I mumble, failing to hold off the shiver that runs full-bodied through me. I'm lying against his chest, and he's so warm I instinctively press myself further against him.

"Hmm?" he murmurs, turning his head to rest his feverish lips to my forehead. "You cold?" Reaching down he clumsily pulls my doona over us.

I'm freezing, but I ignore his question. "Let's get drunk."

He chuckles, and Christ, he still has that rustic, post-sex thickness to his voice resonating from deep in his throat. The irony is for all his fumbling awkwardness and hesitancy, Mr Intense Eyes really does ooze sex appeal with every syllable that spills from his lips.

"No," he eventually replies, his tone lowering a fraction.

Turning myself fully on my stomach, I prop myself up on his chest. "Either we get drunk, or you fuck me every hour until morning," I put to him, and while I force myself to come across as teasing, I'm deadly serious.

He moans to himself only partially beneath his breath as a slow smile pulls lazily at his lips. "I'm still hung over. If I drink again, I'll probably die," he says lightly; though, he's serious as well. I can see it behind those eyes of his—eyes that become more vivid after sex—and the way his brow furrows heavily over them. He's not worried about himself, he's worried about me.

"Okay, I'll get drunk and you can make sure I don't go overboard," I suggest.

He gazes steadily at me for a moment, as if gauging the seriousness of my request. "Bella..."

I'm exhausted, and I want to groan out loud. I have no idea what Jake was on about this morning, but contrary to what he believes, Edward _will_ put up a fight.

"Alcohol loosens me, and I rarely have asthma attacks," I explain. "Plus it makes me super horny, and together with your handsome face, I don't feel anything but you." I grab his chin and attempt to entice him, but I already know it's futile. Edward needs a lot more downtime than I do, and for a good two hours after sex, it's the farthest thing from his mind.

"Bella..." he repeats my name that's accompanied with a sigh, and by the tone of his voice I know he's about to get all responsible on me. "You really shouldn't use alcohol like that."

Immediately annoyed, I shove off him, grab my dressing gown from the foot of the bed and throw it around my naked body.

"This coming from 'Mr two am Drunk Dialler'!" I remind him. I know he's only worried about me, I get it, but Christ!

He releases another heavy breath, dropping his gaze from mine to drag his fingers back through his hair. "Shit...so I really did call you..." he mumbles, more or less to himself.

"Didn't you check your call history?" I put to him, cynically.

He glances up at me looking sheepish, and I'm forced to avert my eyes because a naked, shame-faced Edward with a blush flooding up his neck is hard to stay bloody mad at him.

"I preferred not knowing," he admits.

"Stop it!" I snap, frustrated.

"Stop what?" He's confused.

"Just...bloody hell! Don't you get it, Edward?" He shakes his head, his eyes looking pained. He breaks my bloody rules constantly now. "I just...I need it gone—for a little while." My voice tremors. I can't stop it, and looking away I bite down on my bottom lip to hold off what's waiting behind it.

In the next instant, he's striding over to me pulling me against his chest. His bonds knickers haphazardly covering the little guy. "You can talk to me, Bella," he says softly against my hair after a moment, but it's the last thing I want to hear.

"I don't _want_ to talk about it!" I holler, shoving him off me.

He hangs his head for a moment, his fingers digging heavily into his ridged brow, and when he looks up again, he appears resigned. "So, we're back to this..."

"I just...I can't at the moment," is my pathetic defence.

He takes another long, drawn out breath and decides to compromise with me. "I'll make you a deal."

"What?" I reply, immediately suspicious.

"I'll let you get drunk, but you have to talk to me."

"You'll _let me_ get drunk," I repeat, arching a dubious brow. "Are you kidding me?"

He huffs stiffly through his nose, dragging his hair back off his forehead in a fit of obvious frustration. "You're doing my bloody head in." Taking a step closer to me, he grabs my forearms and holds me still. "I meant, _I'll make sure you don't go overboard_ ," he quotes me.

I break into a reluctant smile, only because I know I'm acting like a mental case and I still feel rotten over how I treated him. "Okay."

He pulls me into his arms again, sighing to himself in a way that suggests he's not happy about it. "What's going on, Bella? What happened to you this last week?" His question almost sounds rhetorical, and it isn't the first time he's put it to me today.

"I don't know," I lie, pushing my face against his bare chest, because I know exactly what happened. Edward, even as he slowly chipped away at my heart still held it together—until he walked out my door last Thursday. It was as if the moment he left, he pulled the plug on me and _everything_ came flooding out.

"Okay, I have a second condition," he seems to suddenly conclude without releasing me.

"God, what?" I bemoan.

"You have to go back to see Dr Jenks."

"Yeah...I know," I concede. That one's a no-brainer.

"Maybe I can come with you," he suggests. He's obviously being tactful, but I'm instantly horrified. I reef myself from his arms.

"Okay, that is _never_ going to happen!" I declare vehemently, and I immediately realise I was too impulsive.

Edward only gazes at me, sucking in his cheeks like he often does while the vein in his forehead bulges again. I can see he wants to push me, but he's clearly holding himself back. He opens his mouth a couple of times, before second guessing himself and closing it again.

"What are you afraid of?" He finally settles on, and this is when I realise my rashness has hurt him. His eyes really are a window to his soul.

I shake my head immediately remorseful, but Christ, does he realise what he's just proposed? "I just...no, Edward. I...I can't..."

"Ever?" He queries, his voice is gentle but still clouded by pain.

"Not ever. Just...not yet." I want to let him see me, really see me and what's lurking beneath the surface, but I'm not ready. In fact, right now, the thought of it scares me to death. "I'm sorry," I offer as a consolation.

He breaks into a resigned-looking smile before bringing his palm to curve around the side of my neck. "Do you think I'll see what you went through and blame any of it on you?" he decides to press me and he's really mastered the art of it, but then maybe I'm just this receptive to him now.

I scoff dryly. "It goes a lot deeper than what happened to me," I mumble, my eyes dropping to my bare feet, and his.

"There's nothing I could hear that would change the way I feel about you, Bella." He takes my hand, his thumb rubbing gently over the back of it.

"I know," I murmur, but I don't.

"Hey..." His voice softens, and in it I can hear his sudden uncertainty.

I raise my head and meet his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Do you want to hear something about me first? Would that help?" His brows shoot up, and Christ, that little boy I feel the need to protect has resurfaced.

"Only if you want to," I reply after a moment's hesitation, leaving it up to him, but Mr Intense Eyes has seen straight through me. I think I preferred it when I thought I was pulling the wool over his eyes.

A smirk immediately tugs at the edge of his lips, his breath shooting from his nose. He tips my chin. "You're too smart for your own good."

I smile begrudgingly, but break his gaze again. He drops his hand from my face and I hear the breath once more gush from his lungs.

"Edward..." I sigh.

"It's up to you, Bella. Yes or no," he pushes again.

"Yes," I answer timidly, and only because Jake's words are echoing back through my mind, reminding me of what an abject bitch I'd inadvertently been to him. I look up, more determined this time. "But you have to get me a drink first."

"What do you have?" Yeah, he's not happy about it.

"Tequila."

From his expression, it's obvious he's groaning internally; his eyes close and his brow knots heavily. "Christ, Bella, you'll get sick."

"I only get sick when I mix my drinks," I reassure him.

He sighs again, and I'm beginning to think they're replacing his apologies. "Where do you want to hang out? In here?"

"In the lounge room."

"Alright," he says begrudgingly, before he bends down and gathers his clothes from the floor. "I'm bloody cold," he explains.

"I'll light the fireplace," I offer.

He smiles, pulling one leg into his jeans. "Okay. I'm sorry..."

And...I spoke too soon.

 **. . .**

"I found this," Edward announces, walking into the lounge room holding up the bottle of Chardonnay Alice bought me last Christmas, while in his other hand, he's carrying a single glass. He really doesn't intend to drink with me. "It'll feel less like crude oil on your stomach."

"Okay, then, Mr Stress-Head," I relent.

Plonking down beside me and placing the glass on the coffee table, he inserts the corkscrew and begins to twist it. After filling my glass, only a third full, he hands it to me and sits back against the cushions.

He gives me a few minutes of sipping the wine in thought when he rests his elbow against the back of the sofa and runs his finger down the side of my face. "No trying to stall, either, okay?" he teases me, when I was convinced he was going to say something sappy.

I flash him a wry smile, and I'm not altogether happy about the fact that he's got me so figured out. "No reneging," I counter.

"I'm sorry?" he says, blankly.

"You first, _remember_?" I remind him.

He smirks again, wholly to himself while breaking my gaze, and Christ, he's gorgeous. God, maybe I just missed him too much.

"Okay," he mumbles, releasing his breath again. He inches to the edge of the sofa and pulls up his long-sleeved t-shirt, revealing the circular-shaped scar he has just below his left armpit. "My mother once butted her cigarette out on me," he reveals, his eyes avoiding mine.

"Oh my god— _why_?" I gasp. I'm appalled, not to mention simmering with anger. How dare she!

"Because she hated me," he replies, matter-of-factly.

"But...how could she hate you?" I shake my head unable to wrap my head around it. Even my father, in all his philandering callousness, never hated me or my mother.

"I look like my grandfather." Again his answer is too simple, too nonchalant. "She wasn't even allowed to name us. Pop told her what our names were—family names, of course. She had no say. He controlled her life, so she took it out on me."

I grab his hand and attempt to coax him to look at me; he does only briefly. "What did he do to her?" I ask him softly.

" _Nothing_ ," he says abruptly, his voice bitter. "Not until she met my father and he threatened to cut her off. She's no victim, Bella. She always knew what my grandfather was like. She claimed to love my father, but immediately dumped him when her precious lifestyle was at stake. I would give up _everything_ for you!" he suddenly declares, his intense eyes finally locking with mine, wide and burning. "The house, the money—all of it!"

Oh, Christ. He's getting me all teary, and suddenly choked, I nod my head a little too hastily as a means to hold it back before placing my hand to his cheek. "I know you would," I assure him gently.

He grabs my hand, moving it to his lips before once again he takes a deep breath and expels it. "Christ..."

"When was the last time you saw her?" I ask, hesitantly.

"A couple of years ago in the city," he mumbles, shrugging a shoulder.

"Did she see you?"

"Yeah." His eyes fall to his lap. "She glared at me, and I turned around and walked in the opposite direction."

I shuffle closer to him until I'm leaning against his side. "Just so you know, if I see her and she even dares look at you, it's going to be on."

He immediately laughs, and bloody hell, the timbre of it is foreplay to the ears. "Bella...some of the things you say, I'm sure I'm the one who's meant to be saying them."

"Christ, Mr Darcy, what century do you think we're living in?" I tease him, expelling my breath subtly in relief when I notice the storm brewing in his eyes is calming.

"Mr who?" he asks, that puzzled crooked smile encompassing his handsome face.

"You're adorable, darling."

He places his thumb to my lips, shaking his head. "No more _darling_."

"Why not?"

"Because...you don't have to convince me anymore. I get it." He raises his eyebrows.

"I'm only teasing you," I insist.

"Sometimes you're not."

God...he really does know me. "Fine," I concede with a huff before taking a long gulp of my wine.

"You okay to talk?" he asks after giving me a minute.

"I'm fine," I say in a quiet voice.

"Tell me about your grandmother," he coaxes me, keeping his tone deliberately tactful.

My grandmother, the golden goose of all my demons.

" _Not_ my grandmother," I reiterate my stance, stubbornly.

"Okay." He's not deterred. "Tell me why you didn't go to university."

"Christ, Edward..." I complain, leaning my elbow on his shoulder to run my hand over my forehead.

"You asked me earlier if I'd stay with you to the end, and I will. I promise," he says softly, but I'm confused.

"I said _what_?"

"You don't remember?"

"No..."

"Bella...you're not stalling, are you?" He's gauging me sceptically.

"I'm not stalling!" I insist, shaking my head. "Okay, you want to know—then _fine_!" I'm acting stroppy, but it's a cover for how bloody neurotic I suddenly feel, and I suspect Mr Pushy is well aware of it.

"Okay, take your time," he murmurs with zero apology in sight. God, I wonder why he went to therapy when all he needed to do was grill me.

"I lost three years," I remind him. "I recall finishing Year 7, but that's it. I had to redo Year 8, 9 and 10 again, and by the time I finished my Year 10 Certificate I was nineteen and too old to stay at school."

"Why didn't you do your HSC at TAFE?" he asks me gently, and he's tiptoeing around me again.

"Because she wouldn't let me, _okay_!" I burst, before downing the rest of my wine and holding the glass out for him to refill it. He does, to the brim this time.

He waits for me to drink it. I do in stony, shaky silence while he runs his fingers over my face almost absently, as if he's contemplating whatever's going on in that handsome head of his.

"How did you do in your School Certificate?" he puts the question to me carefully, like I'm a skittish marsupial that might bolt. I'm onto my third glass of wine.

"Shit!" I mutter in answer. "I failed."

"You did?" He's surprised.

"Yes, _I did_ ," I blurt, as anger and frustration suddenly take hold of me. "At first she convinced me that I was just stupid, and I believed her. I only realised later when I got my memories back that she fucking gaslighted me about needing glasses. I told her constantly I couldn't see and she insisted I was insane, that I'd never worn them and I was just making excuses!" I'm rambling, and it's spilling out of me entirely too smoothly. And Edward is staring at me with the most intense look of pain and disbelief overrunning his entire expression.

That's when I realise the alcohol is having the reverse effect on me. It's not numbing me, it's making me crack open like a raw egg. I have to keep drinking now until I black out. I can't be stuck in this midway wasteland where I have no control.

Two glasses later and I've drunk the entire bottle, but it's no use. I'm springing like an open well and I can't stop it, nor can I extract the panic that's coursing through me in its wake. And despite the stumbling and slurring of my words, I'm still way too bloody coherent!

"I'm like her, Edward."

" _No, you're not_!" he immediately replies, his voice firm and impassioned.

I shake my head, being afflicted by a momentary sensation of vertigo. "Remember in high school? I had no friends. I wasn't just quiet or shy, it was by design!"

"Bella— _stop_!" he warns me, trying to head me off, but I only continue to shake my head stubbornly.

"I didn't want friends. I didn't like anyone, and that's exactly what she's like—what my father was like, arrogant and narcissistic!" I'm yelling at him, frustrated that he's so dense he can't see the truth.

"Bella," he grabs my face between his hands forcing me to look at him. "It's not because you're narcissistic, it's because even back then you were so smart you saw through everything."

"No..." I say feebly, closing my eyes as a weak defence against it, but undaunted, he continues.

"Remember in sickbay? Remember how you were mocking them to me?"

I look up at him, feeling suddenly drained and defeated. "Then why didn't I see the truth about you?" I ask in a near whisper.

"Because..." his voice is too tender, and he runs his thumbs beneath my eyes wiping away my tears, "you're just cynical."

"How can you believe that?" I ask him, and I'm generally curious. Because _how_?

"How can I...?" he breaks off to scoff dryly to himself as if he finds it ridiculous. "Baby, you are _not_ them," he reiterates.

"I _am_ them!" I maintain, raising my voice again, and I'm beginning to sway. "Their blood runs in my veins. I am their legacy—two of the worst people to ever live!"

"Bella—fucking hell!" he snaps, and he's angry. "How can you say that? You are your own person, not extensions of them! I grew up with a narcissist. Do you think, for one second I could stand to be with you if you were the same?"

I shake my head again, but this time I'm not even sure why. Just that he's wearing me down, and only succeeding in confusing me more. "Edward...I don't know what's real anymore. She got in my head."

He pulls me closer to him again, my face wedged between his palms that are becoming increasingly warm and suffocating. "What's real is me, and how I feel about you."

I stare into his eyes for a moment. Eyes that are a testament to the fire in his soul. "Even now, I don't know whether I love you, or whether I'm just acting out a scene in my own life."

Something in his eyes, in his expression, falters. I've hurt him again, and once more I'm forced to bear witness to the result of it playing out before me. "Isn't that what we're all doing?" he says, the pain subtly reflecting in the tenor of his voice.

This time I'm frustrated, and grabbing his wrists from my face I yank them down. "Don't you get it, Edward?" I assert. "There was something very wrong with her, there was something wrong with my father, and there's something wrong with me!"

"There's _nothing_ wrong with you, other than the fact that you were surrounded by the same people I was. You think I'm my mother? _Do you_?!" His eyes are welling in tears, and that vein down his forehead is protruding alarmingly, but behind them is the same tortured soul he always was. And I'm only adding to it.

"I'll be a noose around your neck," I admit in barely a whisper.

"If you're trying to chase me away, it's not going to work," he replies stubbornly, and just as quickly, the pain in his eyes is replaced by that steely resolve of his.

I laugh without a shred of humour. "You can believe it, or not, Edward, but what she did to me I watched my father do to Sam for thirteen years. It's a good thing I can't have children, because I can't ever be allowed to continue their legacy. _Ever_!"

* * *

 **Kim insisted on a few words:  
Long Beta Note: Hiya! *waves* I usually keep notes to Lyndal, but I felt like chatting for the moment. There were a few clues in 27 and this chapter of something coming. Did you see anything? Any word(s) catch your eye? Oh! One last thing, any mistakes with punctuation are mine. I leave the grammar alone because this is written in Australian English. Lyndal told me they don't use periods after Mr and Dr. *slaps forehead* I had no idea because we do here in 'Murica. Thanks for reading. It's far from over. **

**Shout out to Sammy...I miss you gurl. I hope you're doing better and little one is growing just fine. *smooches***

 **~Kimmie45 (Kim)**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: I'm late, I know. If you're friends with me on Facebook you'll know my youngest son has quite moderate autism. He's in 6th grade and going to highschool next year. High schools in Sydney are from 6th-12th grade. We're attempting to get him into an Autism unit. He can't be mainstreamed, and these positions are very hard to get. His current teacher at the moment is filling out his application for a placement and we've been taking him to a new psychologist to get him a more up to date diagnosis. It's been stressful af. I'm going to continue to repost Because of You, as well. Thanks for being patient with me. :)  
Thanks, as always to Kimmie45 for her sharp eyes, and my new pre-reader StarryEyedWriter8, aka Melinda Dane.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 29**

 **Edward.**

Bella didn't mix her drinks, but she got sick anyway.

It probably had more to do with the fact that she hadn't eaten, but I don't think she was in the right frame of mind to begin with.

I feel partially responsible. I knew the more she drank the more she'd open up. I don't even think she realises it, but this time it was too much. For both of us. I wasn't expecting how much she'd reveal, or how easily it would spill from her; nor was I prepared for it.

Still, I refuse to let her wallow in the belief that she's like her grandmother. I know what that state of mind can do to you, and it took ten years of therapy to get me out if it. My mother hasn't been fully extracted from my mind, she probably never will be, but I got enough of that bitch's voice out of my head that I don't allow her to compromise how I live my life anymore.

It's obvious now, despite how well she covers it, that on top of the trauma of losing her family, Bella's been carrying this woman, unchallenged, in her head for years. Like me, she was left young and defenceless in this evil woman's care, only she didn't receive the help I did to move past it. I can't bloody conceive of it, and I should be able to because I know firsthand that just because a person's family doesn't mean they have your best interests at heart.

Deep down she believes it, too. It took the entire bottle of wine before that became obvious. She believes she is her grandmother in the making, and nothing I could say would make her believe otherwise. This is how far that toxic woman's influence extends. It's embedded so deep within her it's as if it's invaded her bloodstream. It's going to take a lot to extract it, but I can't allow her to live another minute believing it. Especially now that I know what it's doing to her.

I'm not sure she even realised how far down the rabbit hole she was going. Or the extent at which alcohol makes her mind lag, because after she'd told me the worst of it, she suddenly stopped and pulled up short. The worst of it wasn't that she can't have babies, but that her grandmother made her believe she'd received brain damage after the accident—using her bad grades as part of the proof—and then had Bella declared unfit and placed under her legal care.

Maybe it was my expression that made her finally realise how much she was revealing, because the deeper she went the more shocked I became until I couldn't conceal it from her any longer. I don't know why I'm always underestimating what she went through. Maybe because she's always been stronger than me. At least I thought she was, but deep down I've always known that behind those deep eyes of hers is an ocean of hurt, and most days she's just barely keeping her head above it.

Then without warning she froze mid-syllable and gasped, looking at me in horror, shock, and pain all at the same time. She placed her hands over her mouth, one over the other, while her wide eyes began to well with tears.

"It's okay, baby," I reassured her gently, slipping my arm around her shoulders to pull her against me, but she shrugged me off her.

"What part of _any of this_ is do you think is okay?" she put to me. Her words were slurring, but the tone she would have normally used wasn't there. There was no more fight left in her.

I leaned towards her and cupped my hand to her cheek. "It's not okay—Jesus, Bella, none of it is—but's it's okay that you've told me."

"Christ..." she whispered, her voice still ingrained with disbelief. She dropped her face to her palm, her forehead knotting with obvious frustration, and she suddenly looked really bloody vulnerable. And then she cried, but the way she cried made me uneasy. She cried as if she were a little kid who was lost and alone. She cried the way I once used to.

I took her in my arms and she didn't put up a fight; she slumped against me, her face pressed against my chest with both her hands clamped around my shirt. She was shaking, her breath shallow and jerking, when suddenly she tensed. Then, almost too casually, she pulled herself from me, got to her feet and left the room.

She was unsteady on her feet, and I thought maybe she was going to lie down.

"Bella...? You okay?" I asked her, not sure if I should've been concerned, or not.

She didn't reply and in the next moment I heard the bathroom door close followed by the sound of her throwing up.

"Shit..." I muttered to myself, before pulling myself hastily to my feet and bursting into the bathroom. She was slumped over the toilet, sheet white...and it was in her hair...

Dropping to my knee, I gathered it from her face, before she threw up again. And then again. I almost joined her, before I quickly realised she was bringing up the wine and nothing else. She obviously hadn't eaten in...Christ knows when.

We spent the next half hour in this position. She didn't speak a work, and neither did I. I kept my hand fastened around her hair and rubbed her back until I was confident she was finished expelling the entire bottle of bloody Chardonnay. By that time she was close to unconsciousness, and gathering her in my arms I carried her to bed. Making sure she was on her side, and not likely to roll on her back, I wrapped her doona over her and left the room; switching the light off as I did.

I meant to go to the kitchen and find a bucket or something in case she was sick again, but I didn't make it that far. Without even realising it, I slumped down in a chair at the dining table, dropped my head to my hand and lost it.

I don't remember the last time I cried. Not since I was a kid, and this time, it wasn't for me. I was worried about her; so worried about her it was tearing me up inside. It wasn't just that Bella had lost her entire family and was left orphaned and alone, or that she might even be infertile, it was that she was placed in the hands of the same fucking monster who came close to killing me.

I know what she's been through; what she's still going through, and you'd think I'd know how to help her through it, but I don't.

I don't know what the hell happened over the last week that made Bella slide so rapidly, but she's falling apart before my eyes and I'm powerless to stop it.

I just know I can't leave her. I have to stay with her and pull her out of this.

 **. . .**

She sleeps for roughly six hours. I lay next to her in the dark, completely on edge while I make sure she stays on her side, and ready to grab her hair if she's sick again, but she's not. It's just before midnight when she groggily pulls herself upright on the bed before reaching over to click on the bedside lamp and grabbing her inhaler.

After drawing it back a couple of times she turns her head to gaze at me. She sort of smiles; though, I think it's more of a grimace.

"How do you feel?" I ask her, remaining conscious to keep the tone of my voice low.

She half scoffs sarcastically, only her eyes look endless and bloody tortured. "Pretty shit," is her reply, and her voice cracks. She clears her throat before dropping her forehead into her palm. "Christ, my head..." she mumbles.

"Want me to get you some Panadol? A Berocca?" I offer.

"No," she murmurs, shaking her head once; her eyes fixed to the inhaler in her hands. "I might have a bath," she says after a moment. She moves to pull herself to the edge of the bed, when she turns to glance at me over her shoulder. "Come and keep me company?" A genuine smile almost breaks across her face, but she's so tortured I'm not sure it's even possible at the moment.

Breaking into a smile in return, I pull myself to my feet and walk around the bed. She waits for me to reach her before leaning against my chest and wrapping her arms around my waist. "Thanks, Edward," she whispers after a moment. "I'm not sure what I'd do without you."

Curling my arms around her shoulders, I drop my face to the top of her head. "I'm always going to be here for you, baby," I murmur against her hair. "You can tell me anything. Okay? It won't change a thing."

"Yeah..." is all she says, sounding like she's lost in thought before pulling from my arms again and making her way, head in her hand, into the bathroom.

While she runs a bath, she rinses her hair in the vanity sink before tying it back to wash her face and brush her teeth. She sure as hell recovers from alcohol pretty quickly. I woke up after the same amount of sleep this morning feeling like death warmed up.

After, she slips her robe from her shoulders, and steps into the bath. I help her, she's still swaying and looking slightly green.

She washes her hair. I sit on the edge of the bath in silence, waiting for her to talk. Once she's finished, submerging herself completely under the water to rinse off, she resurfaces and lays herself back; closing her eyes.

She sighs, and it almost sounds like a sob. I bend down and remove a wet strand of her hair off her forehead, before replacing it with my lips. She opens her eyes, only barely, squinting up at me before a vulnerable smile pulls on her lips.

"You going to mention it, or am I?" she mumbles.

"Mention what...?"

She huffs slightly, her expression clouding. "The bloody elephant in the room."

"You...mean..." I begin, when irritated, she cuts me off.

"Christ, Edward—just bloody say it!"

"You can't have kids..."

"I can't have kids," she echoes me with a heavy sigh before turning her head from me to stare at the ceiling.

"What happened?" I ask her gently. "Was it the accident?"

She nods. "I was haemorrhaging from all over the place. They took my uterus, one of my kidneys and half my spleen."

"Christ, baby..."

She suddenly sits herself upright and turns fully to face me. "I'm going to give you an out, Edward. No questions asked. I can't ask you to take this on, as well." She's serious. Too bloody serious, and there's something determined in her tone, as well.

" _What_?" I ask in disbelief. "Is that what you think?"

"What else _can I_ think?" Her voice rises before it catches in the back of her throat.

"I'm not going anywhere," I tell her, putting my foot down, "and I don't want to hear any more of this _giving me an out_ bullshit."

"You don't know what you're saying," she whispers, shaking her head with the barest movement.

"I know _exactly_ what I'm saying!" I cup my palm to the side of her face, keeping her eyes on me. "And I'm telling you right now it makes _no difference_ to me."

"But..." her voice softly breaks, "you could change your mind in ten years, and then what?"

I pause and take a heavy breath, releasing my hand from her to drag it back through my hair. "Do you want kids, or do you think you shouldn't be allowed to have them?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know..."

"Well, if you ever decide you do want a baby, I'll get you one."

Her brow immediately quirks, her expression becoming cynical. "And how exactly would you do that? Snap your fingers?"

I scoff. "Bella, do you have any idea who my lawyer is? I could buy you a baby tomorrow."

She only stares at me for a moment, before she utters out a shocked kind of laugh. "Christ, I suddenly remembered who I'm going out with."

I break into a small smile. "You're going out with me. I just have a shit ton of money."

Her smile is almost genuine this time, before she lays herself back in the water and closes her eyes.

"So...we understand each other?" I put to her, pressing my thumb to her creased forehead.

She takes a heavy breath and answers in a hum. "Sometimes I get glimpses of that man you might have been if you grew up differently. It's kind of scary, actually," she says lightly, a smirk tugging on her lips; I return it.

"I'm not sure what would have been worse," I murmur, because I often wonder that myself. Would I have been like Pop once was? Emmett and I both? "Just make sure you go back and see Dr Jenks for me, okay?"

She nods. "I'll call him on Monday."

"If you don't, I will," I promise her, because I bloody will!

She grins fully this time. "I think I should start charging you by the hour, handsome."

I almost laugh, but Christ, is she referring to herself as a prostitute? "What does that mean?"

"You don't apologise nearly as much as you used to, and I really like it when Mr Confident comes out to play. You know how sexy he is?"

This time I do laugh. "Okay, but I still don't get it."

She shakes her head to herself, but she's only teasing me. I can almost believe she's starting to come around except her eyes are puffy and she has an almost shocked element to her expression. "How can a guy as gorgeous as you are be so dense?"

"Would you stop being so bloody cryptic all the time," I tease her.

Taking an exasperated-sounding breath, she decides to explain it to me, "You pushing me seems to be therapy for you. You become all forceful and you don't apologise for it."

"I'm sorry," I reply lightly, laughing again when her eyes fly open.

"Are you kidding me?" She flashes me a dubious look.

"Who's dense now, gorgeous? That time I was only teasing you."

She breaks into a grin, almost laughing with me, when it suddenly fades from her lips. "Edward...?" she says softly after a minute.

"Yeah?" Picking up the face washer, I squeeze the water from it over her shoulder.

"I did try and kill myself," she admits in a small voice, before she glances over at me, but it's as if she cowering away from me.

I only nod, but I feel like I should be holding my breath.

She sighs and rubs her forehead as if she's reconsidering elaborating on it.

"Bella...you don't..."

She shakes her head to cut me off. "You already know now, so I just want it out of the way."

"Okay."

"I was twenty-three. It was a month after I got my memories back. My grandmother was...in my head..." She shakes her head again, more forcefully this time. "Anyway, I found out how to get over the railing on the ANZAC Bridge." Her eyes break from mine and fall to her fingers that she's running repeatedly through the mass of bubbles clinging to her. "It was raining...I'd taken a step off the ledge and was just beginning to fall forward when someone grabbed me and hauled me back. He was this big burly, bushy truckie, but all I really remember about him was his eyes and how kind they were." She glances up at me, her expression too vulnerable, and I release my breath in bloody relief because thank Christ for this man.

"Anyway," she continues in a mumble, "the next thing I know I was in the back of a police car. I thought I was being sent to jail." She scoffs to herself through her nose. "Instead, they sent me to this...mental health facility, and that's where I met Dr Jenks."

For the longest time I don't say anything. I can't. I only pull her to my side, even as I sit on the edge of the bath, and wrap my arm around her shoulders.

"You might as well get in with me," she breaks the silence between us, her voice almost teasing. "You're getting just as wet."

"Hmm..." I smile in reply, but my mind's racing ahead of me. "Bella...?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't really believe her, do you? That you're responsible for what happened?" I ask gently.

Taking a laboured breath, she pulls away from me and slips further into the water. "I know it's not rational, and Dr Jenks is helping me get her out of my head, but sometimes...she gets in," she explains.

"She wasn't ever... _physical_ to you, was she?"

"No," she replies, sounding distracted, and shaking her head with it, "but I often wished she was. What she did was worse, Edward." She looks up into my eyes, as if she were pleading with me to understand.

"I know..." I say gently.

"She...she psychologically fucked with me every day that I was with her. She told me I was inherently selfish, and that I subconsciously set out to hurt people. She dug around for information from me and then she used it against me. She used to tell me how I was secretly happy...they _were dead_..." her voice breaks and she hastily severs my gaze, looking like she's attempting to inhale her tears back.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." I whisper in bloody disbelief. I drag her to me again, and bend down to plant my lips to her temple. "You know that's complete bullshit—don't you?"

She nods with barely any movement. "Rationally, yes..."

I huff because it pisses me off that she could ever think anything so ridiculous, and this is despite knowing exactly where that thought process comes from. "Whether it's rational or not don't you believe it."

She nods again, biting her lip, and it's obvious this time she's trying not to cry.

"Hey..." I murmur, my lips grazing against her wet skin, before tightening my arm around her. My entire shirt is now drenched. "Why have you been so afraid to tell me?"

She takes one shaky, wavering breath after another, before she begins, "Because sometimes I believe it, and I was afraid that maybe you might believe it too." Her voice catches and tears once more slip silently down her face, and this time when I attempt to comfort her I practically fall in on top of her. It immediately distracts her and she all but laughs. "Christ, Edward, would you just bloody get in."

So I do.

After stripping off my clothes, I sink into the water behind her. She lays back against my chest, in between my bent knees—because her bath tub isn't the largest one ever made—but Christ, she has the water hot.

For several minutes she's quiet. I wrap my arms around her and she tilts her head to the side, her face pressed against my neck, and closes her eyes.

"I was so ashamed after, Edward..." she eventually whispers.

"What were you ashamed of, baby?" I ask softly, unsure of her meaning.

"Of trying to kill myself," she admits in a small voice. "I felt like my mother, my brothers...they were disappointed in me."

"They couldn't be disappointed in you," I assure her.

She doesn't reply.

"See my nose?" I pipe up after another pause where she'd fallen quiet again. She angles her head to look up at me, and releasing an arm from around her, I run my finger down over the bridge to the tip. "See how from the side it looks straight, but head-on it's kind of crooked?" I turn my head back and forth for her to grasp my meaning.

"Hmm...maybe a little bit," she says after several moments of scrutinising it, "but it suits your face—why?"

"My mother broke it."

"Christ, Edward... _Why_?" She's flustered, and she's angry.

"Emmett...he used to be into Harry Potter. He read all the books. She bought them all in hard cover for him, and one day I had the audacity to touch one," I explain simply.

"So...she decided to break your nose?" She's confused, and I think maybe in disbelief.

"She slammed me in the face with it."

She's horrified, but a lot more than that is burning in her eyes. "I think I'll have to kill her."

I break into an immediate smile, smothering the laugh behind it beneath my breath. My mother's tall and Bella's a complete smol, but she's serious. "She wasn't always physical, Bella, but when she was it was at the end of months of these mind games she used to play with me until I was so on edge I was a nervous wreck. I knew once she beat me it was the end of it—for a while anyway. I used to look forward to it."

"God, how depressing we both are..." she murmurs.

I rest my nose and lips against her wet hair for a moment, letting go of my breath. "But the point is, I was able to move past her. That's all you have to do now, Bella. Get her out of your system."

"How old were you?" she asks in a soft voice, veering back.

"Ten. It was a couple of months before we went to live with Pop. He got it fixed, but before that the kids at school used to call me _pug dog_."

"How did the hospital not notice that you were always being admitted with injuries?" she puts to me, almost flipping over to her stomach.

"My mother paid the staff well to shut their mouths, and repeat the stories she fed them."

"Bitch..." she mutters.

"So...knowing what you know," I continue, "don't you think I could spot someone like _her_ from a mile away?"

She hums, her tone almost turning wry as she obviously gets where I'm going.

"You are _not_ your grandmother, Bella," I reiterate against her hair. "And I don't care if you have to yell and scream at me, but you have to stop giving her power over you."

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: I feel like I post these chapters with an excuse these days. Sorry, for the no weekend update (weekend for me at least). My son's evaluation for an Autism unit placement is today. I've been so stressed with worry my head's been all over the place. Say a prayer for me.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 30**

 **Bella.**

I have to come to terms with it; Edward knows me. More importantly he _understands_ me. I thought I wouldn't like it, that it'd make me vulnerable and defenceless around him, but in reality it's the opposite. I feel safe, secure...

Christ, I'm never drinking again. I have no idea how I came to tell him the one story I never wanted him to know—for the mean time anyway—but I did, and way too easily. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. I definitely feel lighter because of it, but then other times I feel like I'm being engulfed by emerging panic.

It's out of the way, now, and in that sense it's a relief. Withholding it from Edward only made it heavier to carry. Still...

He doesn't believe it—that I'm like my grandmother—but of course he doesn't. I guess a small part of me will always believe it, though. Like Edward and his apologies, some scars will never fully heal. The baby thing... Christ, I don't how that'll ever play out, but I'm happy to take my mind of it for a while, at least.

He stays with me all weekend and then refuses to return to work on Monday. I'm not happy about it. I don't need a bloody chaperone and it makes me feel like he doesn't fully trust me. But he won't budge.

"Have you always been this bloody stubborn?" I put to him, unimpressed even as he attempts to wear me down with that smile of his.

"Sometimes," he answers simply. "It's a staff development day, anyway. Students don't return 'til Tuesday." He attempts to justify it.

"Not the point!" I insist and he smirks and shrugs a shoulder.

"I'm still not going."

"You're a pain in the neck!" I snap.

His smirk turns to a boyish grin. "Stop whinging—what do you want for breakfast?"

"A boyfriend who doesn't feel the need to babysit me!"

"If you don't answer, I'll make you vegemite toast." He deliberately ignores me.

"You're gonna get sacked!" I state, sitting up in bed and folding my arms over my chest.

"Oh _no_... How will I live...?" he mocks me, that grin immediately returning, because he knows he can whip it out and use it to play me like a bloody fiddle.

"Stop it!" I demand, before throwing myself back under the covers. "Do what you bloody want, then." I speak into my pillow.

I feel the weight of him as he leans back over me on the bed. "I have camp on Tuesday, remember? I won't see you again until Thursday afternoon," he reminds me. "I won't even be able to contact you, so just humour me, okay?"

Christ, that's right. I completely forgot. He told me a few weeks back—some lesson in surviving a post-apocalypse world.

"Where are you going, again?" I ask, pulling the covers from my face.

"Katoomba."

I sigh heavily and concede. "Okay..." I mumble.

He buries his face against mine for a moment, before pulling back to kiss my lips tenderly but briefly.

"Breakfast...?" he reminds me.

"I'm not really hungry," I admit.

"Just coffee?"

"Mmm."

He groans before leaning over me to grab my inhaler. "You complexion is bloody awful, Bella." He hands it to me, his eyes canvassing my face closely while his eyebrows practically fuse together.

"I'm fine," I assure him, taking my inhaler form him to breathe it in several times.

I'm not exactly fine. I do feel kinda shit. Maybe I'm coming down with a cold, or something? Or maybe all this weight I've been carrying is manifesting physically – as Dr Jenks is always warning me.

"Maybe you should go and see a doctor," he suggests more or less to himself.

"Maybe you should stop being such a stress-head," I counter wryly, grabbing his chin.

He cracks half a smile and relents before pulling himself off the bed to his feet. "Sure you don't want some toast? Cornflakes?"

"Coffee," I reply, closing my eyes with a weary sigh.

He hums to himself before turning and existing the bedroom, and a moment later I hear him rummaging around in the kitchen.

Christ, he's not exactly the most domesticated man in the country, and after several minutes of listening to him crashing around I begin to fear for my appliances. I pull myself out of bed, shuffle my feet into my Uggs and trail after him.

"Come to supervise me, have you?" he says with a smile after I sink down on a dining chair.

Placing an elbow on the table, I drop my head into it, returning his smile in answer.

"Sure you don't want some eggs?" he offers, holding up the spatula.

"Did you forget I hate eggs?"

He pulls out that smile in full force this time. "I was testing you." He winks, and I scoff.

"You really have tuned into that power you have over me, haven't you?" I say wryly.

"What power would that be?" he asks, placing a mug of coffee before me and sitting opposite with a plate crammed full of scrambled eggs and bacon.

"The power only someone with such a pretty face can have," I tease him, bringing the coffee to my lips and inhaling it in. He knows exactly how I like it.

"I don't have a pretty face," he objects, after swallowing a mouthful of food.

I quirk a brow at him unconvinced because surely he's aware of how bloody gorgeous he is. "Really?"

"Really."

"Want me to remind you?"

"How?" The corners of his lips twitch as he fights to hold off that smile again.

" _Hiiiiiii, Mr Cullen_..." I imitate the school girl we saw on our first date, complete with fluttering lashes.

He immediately blushes and looks down at his plate of food. "They're just kids, and...full of hormones..." he murmurs.

"Do you honestly not see the way women look at you?"

"What...way?" And he must be playing dumb, because seriously... _no one_ is that clueless.

"Oh my god..." I mumble, scoffing to myself in disbelief. "Christ, Edward—you're sex on legs!"

His face deepens and he chuckles to himself. It's obvious I've embarrassed him. "How the Christ do you manage to say whatever the hell comes into your head so easily?"

"The truth, you mean?" I tilt my head and consider it for a moment. In the beginning I thought it was because he was so shy and awkward, but he's completely oblivious to his own appearance. It can only mean one thing; he still believes his mother's view of him.

"You're my girlfriend, you're meant to tell me stuff like that..." he mumbles, shovelling another forkful of food into his mouth, his eyes downcast.

I rest my chin in my palm and gaze at him for a moment. "If you were funny-looking, Edward, believe me I'd tell you."

He almost chokes, and it takes several moments of him coughing into his closed fist before he's able to compose himself. "Christ, you're blunt."

"Hmm..." I contemplate it further. "You see how hard it is, though?"

"How what's hard...?" he asks, his expression turning blank.

"Your mother got in your head so much that you're completely unaware of what everyone else can see as clear as day..." I answer, my voice softening; I'm careful to remain conscious of his feelings.

He clears his throat awkwardly. "Bella..."

I shake my head. "It's the same for me. Even if it's completely skewered, I have to fight every day to...to put it on mute."

"I'm holding it for you, remember?" His voice is gentle.

I nod feeling myself begin to choke. "I know... And I'm holding it for you."

He breaks into a smile that's probably a little too vulnerable. "Listen to me... You are way too honest to ever be considered narcissistic."

I smile before releasing a heavy breath. "Bloody hell—I can't believe I told you..."

"I'm glad you did, because now I know what you're up against." He reaches across the table and grabs my hand, squeezing.

"Christ...I really don't want to talk about it again..."

He pauses, and when I glance up at him he's smiling subtly to himself. "You brought it up, you goose."

I almost laugh. "I know... Just ignore me."

"I couldn't do that if I tried." His smile resurfaces.

He's making me blush now, and needing to break the intensity of his gaze, I pick up my coffee again and take a careful sip.

"You okay?" he puts to me after I lapse into silence.

I scoff dryly, but I'm not too serious. "Define _okay_?"

"Are you as fucked up as I am?" he teases me, and I laugh this time, genuinely.

"I'm fine."

"You will be, baby..." his voice drops to a whisper, and this man... He's so adorable I could literally cry.

"Stop it!" I attempt to mask my sob, but I'm not very successful. His smile turns gentle and on the verge of tears I spring to my feet. "I...have to feed Oppa..."

"I already fed him," he informs me, reaching out to grab my hand again, coaxing me to sit back down.

"Of course you did..." I mumble, complying regardless. "It's crazy..." I say after a moment.

"What is?" He glances up at me, his eyebrows raising.

"You—sometimes I think you've wandered out of a Disney Movie..."

He apparently finds this amusing; though, he deliberately smothers it beneath his breath. "Even though I'm _passive and full of insecurities_ ," he deliberately quotes me.

"God, I know... I'm such a bitch," I concede.

"I'm only joking—and you're not a bitch." He shovels in another mouthful of food, before taking a huge gulp of coffee. "What do you want to do today?"

I shrug a shoulder. "Let's just stay in. I don't want to go out in this rain..."

His gaze sets on me for a second or two longer than normal, and I know he can see it; that sense of panic and melancholy settling over me again. One thing I realised very early on about Edward is that being raised by a narcissist himself he has an unusually well-developed sense of intuition. He often knows before I do that I'm about to be plunged headlong into depression, and he knows now. I've been fighting to hold it off ever since my drunken confession, and while for the most part I've been successful, a large portion of the time I haven't.

Like most things of that nature it comes stealthily, like a nightmare in the middle of a peaceful sleep. It takes me off guard and usually has me by the throat before I even realise it's upon me. I don't even bother resisting it anymore; there's no point. Fighting drags it out, makes it worse. I find if I ride it out and let it pass I usually come out of it relatively unscathed.

We go back to bed, because Edward knows when I'm pulled into this shitty state of mind all I want to do is sleep. When I wake again it's midday, but a storm is raging outside turning the room bleak and full of shadows.

With an irritated groan, I turn over and curl myself against him, wrapping my arms around his waist, and like he usually does, he hands me my inhaler. He is such a worrier and I'm not sure whether he's just naturally cautious or if it's another facet of his mother's torture over him.

"Hey..." he says softly after several minutes of silence.

"Mmm?"

"You ever think about going back to do your HSC?"

"I did do it—a couple of years ago," I admit in a mumble.

"Yeah?" he pulls back to see my face, and he's surprised.

"Yeah," I say simply.

"How'd you do?"

"Ninety-six."

His eyes widen before his expression turns warm. "Okay, well that doesn't surprise me..."

Taking a breath I release it into a lazy hum.

"You ever think about going to Uni?" he asks.

"I can't afford to go."

"But...you could do it via correspondence."

I shake my head. "No...not with what I thought about doing..."

"...What did you think about doing?"

"It doesn't matter..."

"Bella..." he begins, when I cut him off.

"Edward...stop," I complain.

He sighs, sounding irritated. "And you call me stubborn..."

"There's no point being invested in something that's not going to happen," I attempt to rationalise it.

"If you need money for tuition..." Yeah his intuition is sharp, because he stops himself before I can react to him.

"Christ..." I mutter.

He sits himself upright, and stares ahead of him, his arms resting on his propped knees. He's scowling to himself.

"What now!?" I ask with a huff.

He turns his head to glance down at me, his eyes sharp. "What am I to you?" he puts to me. "Tell me, Bella?"

I pull myself up beside him and release a heavy breath. "It's not like that..." I admit.

"Well, what _is it_ like?" he demands, his voice rising, and Christ... Jake doesn't know him, at all.

"Don't yell at me!"

He shakes his head, scoffing bitterly to himself. "If you're not serious about me, just—fucking tell me. I'd rather walk away now than waste ten years."

" _What_?!" I utter in complete disbelief. "Where is this coming from?"

"Bella...come on..." He scoffs again and turns away, running his fingers back through his hair.

"Um...forgive me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it you who recently said—and I quote, ' _You don't want to get married, do you?_ '—like I bloody put the pressure on you, or something!" I might have exaggerated the way he'd said it, but it's been sitting at the bottom of my stomach ever since. I have no idea why.

Okay, well, maybe I do...

His expression turns blank and his mouth falls open. "I...I didn't mean it like that," he says, bloody lamely.

" _Like what_?—I was telling you about Alice and my brother, and you bloody snuck it in as if you were pre-empting me. So don't give me this bullshit about how I'm not serious!" I holler, before moving to pull myself off the bed when he grabs my hand.

"Do...do you want to get married?" he asks, and I have no idea what's going through his mind, just that he's completely doing my head in.

"Oh my god!" I blurt. "...I can't deal with this," I conclude, yanking my hand from his and storming out of the room.

Seriously, does he wait for me to start falling to pieces before he decides to get all forceful on me? I'm so frazzled I'm not even sure I'm reacting to him rationally.

Bursting through the bathroom door and removing my pyjamas as I do, I turn on the shower and step beneath it. Edward follows me, leaning against the vanity and shoving his hands in his front pockets.

"Sorry..." he murmurs after several minutes.

I sigh beneath my breath until it merges into an audible groan. I pull open the shower door to peek at him. "We need a new word."

His smile pulls unevenly and full of insecurity, and Christ, I feel like a bitch again, despite being so frustrated at him.

"...What...?" His brow furrows.

"Half the time I don't know whether you're apologising because it's built into you, or because you're genuinely remorseful," I explain my meaning.

"I'm genuinely remorseful..." His voice softens and he breaks my gaze. "I just...want to know if what we're doing is going anywhere..." he speaks to the floor.

Huffing, I step back under the spray and let the shower screen close with a thud. "Have I ever given you the impression that I only want to be friends with bloody benefits?" I eventually ask, frustrated again.

"No," he replies in a quiet voice. "Have I?"

"Aside from alluding to the fact that you don't want to get married? No."

"I offered to buy you a baby the other night, didn't I?" he reminds me, and I have no idea what emotion he's attempting to relay to me. Christ, this man...

"Oh my god..."

"Bella..."

"—I just wouldn't feel comfortable accepting thousands of dollars from you."

"Why not?" he asks and he sounds genuinely curious.

"Because, you dope"—I open the shower screen and throw the face washer at him—"we're currently still residing in the boyfriend/girlfriend zone—and if you construe that in any way shape or form as some kind of hint to be more, I'll kill you!"

He smirks. "...Do...you want to be more?"

"...I... _what_? Are you kidding me?"

"Jesus Christ..." he mutters to himself, hanging his head for a moment before his eyes raise to meet mine. "Bella, I wouldn't have offered to pay your bloody tuition if I _wasn't_ serious about you! Fuck's sake—the fact that you turned me down makes me think that if I did ask you to marry me you'd probably say no!"

He's angry again, and I really have no idea why, just that sometimes talking to him makes me feel bi-polar.

"Do you honestly believe that asking me to be your wife is the same as offering me money?—Do you?" I put to him dubiously.

He stares at me for the longest time, his eyes penetrating, his brow creasing deeply over them, when he snaps. "I don't know what the fuck I'm even saying anymore!" he fumes before turning and leaving the bathroom.

In the next moment I hear the front door slam, followed by the sound of his engine roaring to life in the carport before he pulls out.

Okay, Jake was right; he does remove himself, but not before giving me an earful first.

He returns roughly thirty minutes later, carrying a plastic bag; something he holds up in emphasis. "I got some lunch," he mumbles sheepishly.

I'd been contemplating calling him, my stomach in knots, and immediately flooding with relief, I hold my hand out to him. He takes it and moves to sit beside me.

Plonking the bag of, what looks like, fish and chips down on the coffee table he turns to me and pulls me into his arms.

"I'm sorry," I murmur after releasing my breath and going limp against him. "I'm such a mental case sometimes..."

He turns his head to plant his lips to my temple. "It's not you, baby," he says softly against my hair. "You're truthful and upfront... I'm just...I'm just completely shit at all this."

"No you're not..." I assure him. "You're just too bloody good for me."

He snorts to himself. "Okay, you are a mental case sometimes," he teases me.

I half laugh before burying my face against his chest and inhaling in the ridiculously seductive scent of his aftershave. "I'm not playing around with you, Edward," I admit in a whisper. "If I was I would have ended it a long time ago."

He takes a breath and releases it loudly. "Bella..."

"Hmm...?" I say, glancing up at him before running my index finger over the bridge of his nose. It really doesn't look like it's been broken.

"I am serious about you—incredibly serious. I just..." he abandons it to reach up and rub his brow.

"...You're just...?" I urge him to continue.

"I just...feel like I'm going into this with you blind. I don't know what I'm supposed to do half the time, and I don't want to fuck it up."

Christ, this criminally handsome, tortured man. What am I supposed to do with him?

"I'm not following you..." I confess. "Just say it—whatever's worrying you."

He takes another heavy breath before he allows his eyes to meet mine again. "I feel like we're stuck, and I want to go forward, but... I'm not sure where the boundaries are?"

I shake my head slowly; he's really losing me now. "...We are going forward, aren't we?"

"No, I mean, do I ask you to marry me, do I move in with you—Christ, I told you, I'm shit at this..."

I break into a small smile, leaning forward to rest my forehead against his shoulder. "You are so adorable..."

"I'm serious..." He's beginning to sound frustrated again, but I can't help it and I'm forced to smother my reaction to him beneath my breath. "You're not helping..." he mumbles.

I raise my head. "You dope! Just be honest with me. Tell me how you feel and where you want it to go."

He exhales again, only this time his shoulders relax somewhat with it. "Where do you want it to go?"

I quirk a suspicious brow. "Are turning this back onto me?"

"No..." he replies, sounding completely uncertain. "Jesus, Bella..."

I groan, but I'm only teasing him because he really needs to lighten up. Though, it's amazing how focusing on him—on us—can lift the shroud of depression from me so effortlessly. "What are you afraid of? Just tell me."

"Kiss me first..." he mumbles, his eyes breaking from mine again.

"Huh?" I utter blankly.

"On our first date, I was fucking it up, so you offered to kiss me first..." he attempts at an explanation, and I immediately get his meaning.

"Ahhh... Okay. Do you want to move in with me?" I ask in the context of how he'd first put it to me.

"Yeah..." he says simply as if it went without saying, before breaking into a reluctant smile. "Do you want me to?"

"My house? Not yours?" I ask sceptically.

"Your house," he's ventures.

"It might get a bit crowded..." I point out.

He groans only partially beneath his breath. "Yes or no."

"Yes."

His smile broadens and he completely relaxes this time. "When should I move in?"

"When do you want to?—I mean, half your stuff is here, anyway."

"Hmm...after I come back from camp. That okay?" he puts to me, and Christ...he's such a little boy.

"That's fine."

"Sure?"

"Oh my god..."

He laughs gently. "I'm sorry."

"New word..."

"Hmm?" He reaches out a finger to wipe my hair from my forehead.

I shake my head and let it go because it wouldn't be Edward if he didn't constantly apologise. "Never mind..."

Releasing me he leans forward and grabs the plastic bag, pulling the paper-wrapped food from within in. "You hungry?"

"Yeah..." I'm not really; I'm really beginning to feel like I'm coming down with a cold. "What d'you buy me?"

"Battered sav," he pulls it out and hands it to me.

I take it from him and bite into it. Despite my lack of appetite I love these things, and handsome's aware of it. "So, if you're moving in here, what are you going to do with your house?" I ask after a moment.

"Hmm"—he chews on his burger in thought before swallowing—"I'm thinking I might sell it and give half to Jake."

"Yeah?" I say surprised, because he's always been adamant about keeping it on account of his grandfather.

"Yeah..." He shrugs a shoulder. "His father's really being a prick and I think he's close to snapping."

"What's going on?"

"He's punishing him for Ness—," he begins when I cut in.

"I thought they liked her?" I'm affronted on her behalf, because who couldn't like Ness? She's all flavours of sweet.

He scoffs bitterly. "They'll never like her. It was all bullshit—a fucking act, and then his father cut his wage as retaliation. He now earns less than I do."

"Less than your teacher's salary?" I ask, and he nods. "Why would...?"

"It's all about control with these arseholes. Pop was the same, and Jake...all he wants to do is settle down with Ness and have babies." He breaks into a smirk.

"Seriously?" I laugh, because if I didn't see it first-hand I would have never believed it. But then I did get Edward all wrong in the beginning, too...

"I know..." He's in agreement with me, shaking his head slightly before he takes another bite of his burger. When he turns to look back to me again, he faces me fully; a frown encompassing his face. "You're getting sick, aren't you?"

I sigh because I can no longer convince myself, much less Edward. My head aches and I'm starting to feel congested. "Yeah...bugger it."

"You going to be okay?" He places the back of his fingers to my forehead. "You're warm..."

"It's winter—everyone's getting the flu. I'll survive..."

"Is your asthma worse when you're sick?" he asks, his eyes gauging me closely.

"No, not really," I say, leaning forward to place my half eaten battered sav on the greased paper it came in. "Edward, you really have to stop treating me like I'm going to break. I don't like it!"

"I'm just worried about you," he admits in a quiet voice.

"You don't need to be," I promise him, because it's true. He doesn't.

I'm fine.

* * *

 **A/N: thanks, guys...**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: I almost uploaded chapter 30 when I realised that was last weeks. Gawd, I'm so fail...  
Thank you, as always to Kimmie 45 and StarryEyedWriter8, and a big congratulations to SammyHale on her new baby boy. I'm so happy for you, doll. **

* * *

**Vertigo**

 **Chapter 31**

 **Edward.**

Bella's good at pretences. She can look you straight in the eye and insist everything's fine, even as hers contradict every word that comes out of her mouth.

It's the first thing I noticed about her that night in her car in front of Jake's girlfriend's apartment; her eyes. How tortured they were despite every effort she made to convince me otherwise. Those eyes of hers... Christ, she can frustrate the crap out of me, but I can't stay angry at her when she looks at me the way she does. She's always telling me I apologise too much, and I do, but what she doesn't realise is so does she. She might not speak it verbally, but her eyes do.

I still remember how they were in high school, even behind those glasses she used to wear. When she looked at you the cogs in her brain started turning until she had you completely worked out—even if she got me wrong. At least back then they matched her personality, though. The eyes of a cynic with a lightning fast wit, and while Bella is still cynical and way too blunt, her eyes no longer reflect it. They now reflect the nightmare that no one should ever have to live through, much less a sixteen year old kid.

She told me too much too soon. We're both aware of it, but it's not as if she can take it back. She has to come to terms with it—of me knowing all her secrets—and I have to try not to smother her and _break her rules_. Yeah, she let me know they're still in effect. No sympathy whatsoever, at any time.

"It doesn't change the past, Edward. It just reminds you how shitty it was." That's what she told me last night when I pissed her off so much she literally kicked me out of her bed.

I don't know why I keep bringing it up, especially when she's so horrified about how much she told me. I know how she's going to react, but again, it's those eyes of hers. It's as if they're pleading with me to reach in and pull her out of this bloody nightmare, even if she'll never physically speak it.

We were lying in bed; she'd gone quiet again. All I did was remind her that no matter what had happened, or what her grandmother made her believe, it would never change the way I feel about her. She completely overreacted and then shoved me square in the chest, sending me over the edge of the bed.

I sat up on the floor fuming. I was angry, I was frustrated, but then she locked her eyes with mine and told me she was sorry and explained why she hates it so much.

"Everyone at hospital—the nurses, the doctors, even the ladies that pushed the beverage trolleys—they all looked at me in the same way. As if I was a kitten who was run over and left on the side of the road to die. 'Oh, you poor darling' they said to me, over and over, and christ, all it did was bloody remind me, every second of every day, what happened to me. I don't _need_ to be reminded, Edward. I l _ive_ it!"

"Jesus, Bella...I'm sorry," I immediately replied without even realising what I was saying.

It made her smile and completely shifted the mood. Then, because Bella's apologies come by the way of sex, that's what we did; despite her cold that was rapidly setting in or how flushed her skin was becoming.

In her defence, it was the end of a long weekend of an even longer week. I think we were both done with the confessions—as bloody ironic as that is. There's still things she's yet to tell me but she can do that when she's ready; I'll never push her again.

Still, her eyes... It's like someone hit bloody pause and they're now frozen in a permanent state of anxiety. I'm on edge about leaving her, but it's not as if I can tell her that. That's a violation of the rules, and she'll take it as proof I don't trust her. Trust is important to her—as it should be for anyone—but Bella needs me to have faith in her. Faith that she won't do anything to hurt herself, but I'm not sure that I do yet, because no matter how much she attempts to convince me she's fine, her eyes tell a different story.

She's not fine, but I knew that from the beginning.

 **. . .**

I'm getting Bella's cold.

I woke this morning, the day of the camp, with a scratchy throat and an aching head, and if Bella's anything to go by I'm only going to get worse. She started coughing during the night until she was constantly sneezing as well and unable to breathe through her nose. Neither of us slept very well, but by early morning she was out cold. She didn't even stir when my alarm went off.

After showering, I get dressed in the clothes I'm going to be forced to bloody wear for the next three days. Then after making sure I've packed everything—a can opener most especially—I dump my backpack by the door of her room before turning on the light and quietly entering again.

It's not quite 5 am, it's still dark outside and she's fast asleep. For the next several seconds I only stare down at her. She's pale, her cheeks are flushed, and together with those red lips of hers and her long dark hair it only makes her more beautiful. I realise now, with a heaviness in my heart, that I can't lose her. I'm not sure I'd get past it, and it only increases the general anxiety I feel most days for her.

Plus, and I'm not sure why, but I have the sudden urge to wake her up and explain to her that when I asked her if she wanted to get married, I was serious. It came out completely wrong, but of course I'd fuck it up. I'm still so shit at this whole relationship thing, and it suddenly bothers me that she thinks I was screwing with her. That for the next three days she's going to continue thinking it.

Christ, this girl messes with my head more than my mother ever could.

Bending down, I run the back of my fingers down the side of her face before pressing my lips to her brow. Her skin is hot. Too hot.

"Hey..." I whisper.

She mumbles unintelligibly before breaking off to cough several times. "Hey," she eventually echoes, her voice already hoarse and broken. She smiles at me, her eyes shining too bright. "Have fun."

Smiling in return, I scoff. "I'll try." I place her inhaler on her hand. "Stay in bed today okay, baby? No work—you're sick."

She only hums, clutching the inhaler to her chest and rolling to her side.

I kiss her again, against her temple this time; leaving my nose and lips grazing against her for a pause too long. I'm worried about her and it won't budge.

"If you need anything call Jake, okay?" I tell her. I'd even settle for her reaching out to Jasper but he's in Queensland with Alice celebrating their engagement, or something to that effect.

"Edward..." she says in a soft voice even as a smile tugs on her lips, "you worry too much."

"Just promise me," I insist before pausing to roughly inhale back my running nose.

Her forehead knots and she squints up at me. "You sound all stuffy. Are you getting sick, too?" She extends her hand and places it to my forehead.

"Yeah," I admit lightly. "You infected me."

"You can stay home in bed with me," she offers, which isn't like her.

"If I do that I really will get sacked," I reply with a small smile, before releasing my breath. I'm starting to feel shitty.

She groans softly and closes her eyes for a moment. "Make sure you have a warm coat. It's snowing in the mountains."

"I have," I assure her.

"And get some cold and flu tablets before you go." She coughs again; it doesn't sound good, and despite how warm she is she's beginning to tremble.

Pulling the blankets up over her shoulders, I wipe her hair off her face with my fingers. "Okay... I'll see you Thursday."

"...Bye, handsome..." she murmurs, sounding as if she's drifting off to sleep again.

With an inward sigh I turn around and leave her sleeping behind me, before lugging my backpack over my shoulder, grabbing my keys and heading out. I leave my phone. It's pointless taking it, anyway. There'll be nowhere to charge it and I doubt there'll be any coverage where I'm going.

I stop by the house first. The front door's unlocked, like it often is, because bloody Jake still thinks he's living with his parents half the time—who have armed security guarding their property.

He's still in bed, and throwing open his door, I switch on the lights.

" _Oi_!" I holler when he doesn't even flinch.

"Whaaaat?" He complains with a groan, his face still wedged into his pillow.

"Wake up!"

Pulling his head up he turns to gaze at me, and he looks bloody drunk. "What the fuck, mate? It's 5 am!"

"I'm leaving for camp. I have to be at school early—but anyway, I want you to promise you'll check in on Bella for me."

"Yeah okay..." he mutters before face-planting back into his pillow.

"I'm serious, and can you learn to lock the fucking door?!" Walking over to him, I grab his doona and yank it off him.

"Christ—all right!" he snaps, hastily pulling it back over him; he's naked.

"Jesus, do you own pyjamas?"

"Why would I? I'll keep an eye on Bella, now will you piss off? I don't have to be up for another hour."

"I thought you were quitting?"

He snorts sarcastically. "Yeah, right..."

"Got any cold and flu meds?" I put to him, because Jake's a bloody pharmaceutical's wet dream.

"I dunno, maybe... Check in my bathroom," he mumbles, shoving himself to the side so his back is facing me.

Without another word I head into his en-suite, and Christ, he's got five boxes of the stuff, all different brands. I grab the closest one and shove it in my pocket before exiting his room and flicking off his light to the sounds of his snores behind me.

 **. . .**

Fifty boys and seven staff are attending the camp. Boys from Years 11 and 12 who're essentially fuck-ups and are in danger of failing. There's seven groups with seven kids to each teacher. Naturally, I get assigned the seven rowdiest boys in Year 12, and the first thing I do before getting on the bus is frisk them for their phones and anything else they thought about smuggling along.

"Stop whinging. It's for three days, not the rest of your lives," I remind them after they carried on like I was amputating their limbs instead of taking their phones.

"What if we break a leg or something?" Ben asks.

"CB radio," I reply as they all groan. "What the hell's this?" I hold up the bottle of Wild Turkey I pulled from William's backpack.

"It's water," he says with a broad smirk.

"Water..." I echo with a scoff.

"I'll go halves with ya," he offers.

"I should make you drink it all just to watch how sick you'll get," I mutter, shoving it in my backpack, only because I know how much shit he'll get in if the head of the senior years, Sam Uley, finds out. "Don't look so happy with yourself. I'm tipping it out the moment we arrive."

"Righto." He winks. "Plus, I don't spew."

I roll my eyes. "Get on the damn bus."

"You gettin' sick, Mr Cullen? We're not gonna have to carry ya, will we?" another one asks, and I'm not sure who. It's still dark and they're all smart arses.

"I have a cold, now get moving before I give it to you," I threaten them, grabbing the back of the coat of whoever's last in line and pushing him forward.

It's a three hour trip to Katoomba. I sleep for the most part, despite how loud the boys are, and with each passing minute I feel steadily worse. By the time we arrive, my throat is so raw I can barely swallow and my head's pounding.

We're split off into our groups before being helicoptered into different sections of the Blue Mountains National Park with nothing but a compass, a map and a long range walkie-talkie. We're each fitted with a tracker in case we get lost or split up, but the rest is up to me. I have to get us all out by Thursday afternoon. Aside from our one-man tents, we were instructed to bring canned goods to survive on for three days, as well a canteen. I have to find us all fresh water and teach the boys to fish, while getting all eight of us to the right location each night in one piece to make camp.

Bella was right. It's snowing, and as a Sydney boy born and raised in a suburb that doesn't drop lower than fifteen degrees Celsius in the daylight, it's a shock to my system. We were instructed to bring warm outerwear, and after pulling on my coat, gloves and a beanie over my baseball cap, I get the boys moving and we set off to find the first rendezvous.

By midday I feel as if I'm delirious with fever, and I've stopped reacting to the boys complain and bitch about the cold. I'm too sick to care. I'm too sick to eat. I can barely manage the cold tablets I got from Jake and I have no idea how the hell I'll be able to get us all out of here alive.

After the boys eat their cans of baked beans for lunch, we set off again. I have no bloody idea how we make it to the designated campsite, or how I even manage to pitch my tent. After instructing the boys to find some firewood, I light a fire, and crawl inside my tent. I'm literally done for the day, and after taking double the night-time dose of cold medication I crash.

"Mr Cullen? You're not dead, are ya?" Is how I'm woken up by one of the boys the next day.

"No..." I utter before going into a coughing fit. I'm roasting hot and shivering uncontrollably at the same time. I feel like bloody death. I manage to crawl out of my tent and pull myself weakly to my feet. Christ, I have another night of this. "Where's the rest of you?" I ask, my voice hoarse and rustic, before pulling back the sleeve of my coat to check my watch. It's just past eight am.

"Still asleep," Riley answers.

"Well, wake them up."

"Okay...but, um, it might be kinda hard..." he says cryptically.

"Why?"

"...They're all drunk—well, apart from me and Ben."

That's when I remember the bloody bottle of bourbon I'd forgotten to throw away the day before. The arseholes obviously snuck it from my bag when I was out cold.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I burst, before storming over to the first tent closest to me and unzipping it. "William!" I holler, my voice barely holding up. He groans pitifully. "Get your arse out here— _now_!"

He does, only to immediately throw up at my feet, and grabbing him by the scruff of his coat, I shove him head first back inside his tent.

"Didn't I warn you?" I attempt—and fail—to yell, but he's too sick to give a shit and I'm too sick to sound even remotely intimidating. "You've got to be shitting me..." I mutter.

I soon realise that while I'd sprung William with one bottle, the little shits managed to smuggle in another two. I found the three empty bottles by the still smouldering fire. They didn't even attempt to hide the evidence.

All five of them are heavily hungover and a puking mess, but if I'm forced to trek through the wilderness while I feel like I'm dying, I have no sympathy for any of them. My patience has already severed, and I shout at them to get moving until my voice completely fails and I almost cough my lungs up. The only way I can get them to comply is to promise not to report them to Mr Uley. I'm still fighting an uphill battle, though, and I barely have the strength to get myself motivated much less five drunk teenagers.

We arrive at the next campsite three hours behind schedule, considering we had to stop multiple times for one, or more, of them to throw up. Once our tents are pitched, the five drunks and I immediately crash. I leave Ben and Riley to their own devices. They're the only semi-responsible kids out of the group, which is laughable. I probably shouldn't have trusted them with the matches to light the fire but I feel worse today than I did yesterday.

At this point it'll be a miracle if we all make it back in one piece, and I can't help but worry myself even sicker about Bella. If I feel this terrible I hate to think how she's doing. I can only hope Jake keeps his word and checks in on her.

The next morning I'm not even close to recovering, despite the amount of drugs I've taken to lessen the symptoms. The boys have all relatively recovered from their night of binge drinking, and we manage to make it to the meet-up zone without learning a single thing about surviving in the wild other than how good a sleep the mountain air provides you.

We board the coach and arrive back at civilisation at just past three pm. After making sure all seven of the boys are signed off and picked up to go home, I get in my car to head to Bella's.

I have no idea if she's still as sick as I am, or if she's recovered enough to return to work, but when I pull up alongside her car in the carport, I get my answer. She's home; which means she's obviously still down.

The front door's locked, and after quickly realising I still don't have a key, I knock. There's no answer, despite Oopa's barking from the other side. I knock again. And again.

"Bella?" I call out to her in a hopelessly cracked and hoarse voice, just as my heart skips with the first stirrings of concern. "I'm home."

Nothing.

 _Maybe she's in the shower_ , I attempt to rationalise as I trudge through the garden to the bay window of her bedroom. Placing my hands to the glass, I peer in, and am just able to see Bella's still form lying on her stomach, sideways across her bed, above the blankets.

" _Bella!_ " I shout, immediately filling with dread as I slam my palms against the window. She doesn't move; she doesn't even flinch. " _BELLA!_ "

In blind panic I make my way back to her door, almost losing my footing in the garden, before ramming my shoulder into it. It's solid timber and it takes several attempts to break it down, when the hinges finally tear from the door frame. I climb over it, falling to the floorboards of the hall before I scramble to my feet to get to Bella. All I can think, all I can conceive, is that Bella wouldn't do anything to hurt herself. She _promised_ me. She has to be sick. It can't be anything else.

As soon as she's within arm's reach I pull her against me. She's not moving, her skin is pale and clammy, and her lips are blue. But she's breathing; it's only faint, but I can just make out the strained sound of air moving in and out of her lungs.

On impulse I glance around the room hastily, looking for my phone, when I notice it. My gaze immediately zeroes in on it, and the implications behind it, as my heart freezes in my chest. The white Prozac bottle is tipped over and lying empty on her side table

" _Bella!_ " I yell, slapping her cheeks repeatedly as I attempt to rouse her but she doesn't stir. "Jesus Christ!" Picking up her limp body in my arms, I carry her to the bathroom, knowing if she's taken pills I have to get her to throw them back up.

While somehow holding her slumped up over the toilet, I manage to jam my fingers in her mouth and down her throat. Something warm and sticky comes up, but not what I was expecting. I attempt it again, but this time she reaches out weakly and pulls my hand from her mouth, and I almost break down in relief.

"Why would you do this, Bella, _huh_?—Why the fuck would you do this?" I blurt out before securing her in my arms again and racing back into the bedroom.

She charged my phone, thank Christ, and lying her back on the bed, I yank it up, and with fumbling fingers dial 000.

"Ambulance, police or fire brigade?" the operator asks.

"Am-Ambulance," I stammer to get the word out.

"Can you please state your address?" A different woman's voice asks a moment later. In a rush I relay it, but my voice is so cracked and I'm shredded by panic, she can't understand me. I repeat it again, slower.

"I'm sorry—I have the flu," I explain.

"It's fine. What is your emergency?"

"M-my girlfriend has—I think she's overdosed!"

"Okay, calm down, sir. Can you tell me what she's overdosed on?"

"Prozac."

"Okay, is she breathing?"

"Yes, but she's struggling."

"Has she vomited?"

"I made her—yes."

"That's good. I want you to lie her on her side and make sure her airways are clear. An ambulance is being dispatched, but I want you to stay on the line with me, okay?"

"Okay—how long? You need to hurry! She's turning blue!" And she's breaking into a cold sweat.

"It's approximately seven minutes away, sir. Please stay calm. What's your name?"

"Edward."

"Edward, do you know how to do CPR?"

"Yes."

Bella suddenly moans faintly and attempts to open her eyes; they immediately roll back. "Ed..."

"What did you take, baby!?" I yell at her, but I'm out of my mind with panic.

"Is that her? Is she conscious?" the operator asks me.

"Sort of—I don't know. Stay with me, Bella. You're okay," I attempt to assure her before I lose it. " _Why would you do this_?!"

"I'm...sorry..." she utters in a mumble, her voice barely audible when she suddenly convulses as if she's suddenly choking.

"How she doing?" the operator asks.

"Not good—Jesus, you need to fucking hurry. She's struggling to breathe."

"The ambulance is close, Edward. Is there anything else we need to know about her?"

"She's asthmatic."

"Does she suffer from depression or any other mental illness?"

"Yes."

"Has she attempted to take her life in the past?"

"... _Yes_..." I admit before completely breaking down.

* * *

 **A/N: I was going to put a warning at the top but then I figured...well, I won't spoilt it. Don't hate me too much.**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: I decided to throw you all a bone and update early. Plus I wrote two chapters in two days, so it's all good.  
Happy reading :)**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 32**

 **Edward.**

Bella's in trouble. She's in real trouble.

You know it's bad when an ambulance has its siren on while speeding across the Harbour Bridge at peak hour. It's even worse when the paramedic driving slides his window down to yell at cars to get out of his way, while honking the horn repeatedly.

I'm strapped in the back seat opposite her listening as the 2nd paramedic radios ahead to Royal Prince Alfred; where they're taking her. My head's beginning to fog from adrenaline as well as from the worst flu I've ever had. I really can't comprehend anything more than the blind panic that's overrunning me. Maybe it's a blessing, though, because I can't understand the medical terms he's using. Still, it's obvious it's dire by the tone of his voice, and by this point, they have already intubated her and placed defibrillator pads on her chest. They're anticipating her heart stopping, and it can't get much worse than that.

The ER doctors are waiting for her when we arrive, and while Bella's rushed into Emergency, I'm directed to a waiting area. I only sit, numb and in shock, and so fucking sick I feel like passing out. I need some kind of distraction and without even really thinking about it, I call Jake.

It's just passed 4 pm. He'll still be at work, and I half expect his secretary to pick up for him, but she doesn't; he answers.

"Hey, mate. What's up? You home already?"

"Yeah. Jake...Bella-Bella's in hospital," I inform him knowing I sound as irrational as I feel; something he obviously picks up on.

"Fuck, mate—she okay?"

"No. She...she tried to kill herself." My voice catches, and all at once it hits me. Before I can stop them, before I'm even aware of them, tears are welling in my eyes and falling down my face. I wipe them away impatiently.

Jesus..." he whispers. "What—?"

"You did go and see her, right?" I cut in, my voice rising. "You did that for me, didn't you, Jake?"

"Mate...the old man sent me to Melbourne for a conference on Tuesday. I only got back a few hours ago, but I called her."

"You called her?— _When_?"

"Tuesday night. She sounded pretty crook, but she seemed okay," he explains. "Where are you?"

"RPA."

"Righto, I'm coming now."

He arrives in ten, striding over to me in the three piece suit that I know he hates, before yanking me into his arms.

"Have you heard anything?" he asks after releasing me.

"No," I mumble, sitting back down in the semi-cushioned chair. He sits beside me. "I filled out the paperwork for her and a nurse asked me if she has family to call." A humourless laugh erupts from me. "I gave them her brother's name, but I don't have his number."

He gauges me for a moment, his eyebrows drawing. "Mate, you sound like shit?"

"Yeah..." I mutter, shrugging a shoulder.

"I called Ness. She'll be here soon. I couldn't get hold of Emmett, though."

"No worries... Thanks," I mumble, but I'm beginning to feel numb.

He clamps his hand down on my shoulder. "Hey, she'll be okay," he assures me, not sounding very confident.

"Will she?" I challenge him. "What if nothing I do will ever make a difference? What if she was always meant to die?" My voice breaks again. I can't fucking stop it, or hold any of it back.

"Mate, don't say that," he replies with a frown, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

I only shake my head before dropping it to stare at the vinyl floor beneath my feet.

"Ed..." he begins, sounding apprehensive. "I went to see her Saturday morning..."

"She told me," I reply, my gaze fixed to the muddy hiking boots I'm still wearing.

"She did?" he sounds surprised.

"Yeah, she was pretty...touched by it," I glance up at him momentarily.

"She was really down about what happened. I thought she'd be better if I pushed her to make up with you," he offers as his reasoning. "Mate, I..."

I shake my head again, knowing exactly where he's going with this. "It was nothing you did."

"What do you think happened?" he asks me after a pause, his voice deliberately softening.

"She got pretty drunk..." My thoughts wander back to Saturday night and how badly she came apart. "She told me a lot about what happened to her. I don't think she meant to, but it was spilling out of her."

"You think she couldn't handle you knowing?" he ventures.

" _I know_ she couldn't handle me knowing."

"Shit..." he mumbles to himself. "How bad was it? As bad as what your old lady did to you?"

I scoff bitterly. "About the same."

"Jesus," he mutters this time. "How'd you survive in the mountains with the flu?" he changes the subject.

"I dunno." Because I don't. "I barely remember any of it."

Nurses come and go, some stop to give me an update on Bella. They're stabilising her before sending her to the ICU, but that's all they can tell me.

"A doctor will explain it more," the same nurse gives me the same generic answer after I got jack of being in the dark and approached her at the triage station.

"It's been an hour!" I state the obvious.

"I know. Try and be patient. They're doing everything they can." Another generic reply. "Would you like a coffee?" she offers as if that will make some kind of difference.

"No," I reply, before turning and walking back to the row of chairs where Jake's still waiting.

Ness has arrived and when she sees me she pulls herself to her feet and practically throws herself in my arms. I immediately lurch away from her. My reaction is more extreme than it's been in a while, and she only stares up at me in horror. I guess without Bella to keep me grounded this is what I am.

"Oh god, Edward—I'm so sorry!" she immediately appeals to me

"It's okay," I mumble, ashamed of myself and unable to meet her gaze before I slump back down beside Jake.

"He's okay, sweetie," I hear him whisper to her. "He's just not himself right now."

Not myself? When have I ever been?

Another half an hour passes and I still haven't heard anything. I'm close to completely losing it when Dr Jenks walks past; appearing to be on his way out. He glances over to me as he does and immediately pauses.

"Edward." He approaches me and extends his hand. I take it. "I assume you're here for Bella."

I nod and pull myself to my feet beside him. "Do you know anything?"

"Come this way." He takes me by the elbow and ushers me off to the side. "I was called in when it was suspected she'd overdosed," he relays to me in confidence, "but, Edward...she didn't."

"She... _didn't_?" I repeat blankly.

"Her stomach was pumped as a precaution, but it was empty. Her toxicology report came back clear, as well."

She didn't attempt to kill herself?

"Then...what's wrong with her?—Asthma?" I ask, while my knees feel like they might buckle beneath me in relief. At the same time, it's not exactly reassuring, because what the hell could make her so dangerously sick...?

"It looks like pneumonia," he explains in a sedate voice, "but it appears to be a particularly nasty, multi-drug resistant strain of bacteria. Acinetobacter baumannii."

"Acin..." I abandon it and shake my head in confusion. "But...she's going to be okay, right?"

He takes a weary breath, his eyes momentarily breaking from mine. "At this point, I can't say for certain."

"...But..." I shake my head a second time in denial. I can't get my head around it. Do people still die from pneumonia? People as young and beautiful as Bella?

He raises his head and places his hand on my shoulder. "You got to her just in time, Edward. I heard you induced vomiting. You probably saved her life."

"I...I thought she'd taken all her medication..."

"And that's why she's still alive right now."

I can only stare at him, numbly, feeling my brow ridge. I can barely process any of it.

"You sound quite sick, as well. I'll get a doctor to write you up a prescription." He slaps my back lightly, breaking me from my thoughts.

I nod my head, but I didn't really hear him. "When will I know more?"

"She'll be moved to ICU soon. They'll explain more then."

I nod again. I'm not sure I'm capable of anything else, right now.

"Just be prepared. She'll more than likely be on a ventilator for several days." His gaze is serious before he sighs heavily and rubs his brow.

"Is that... _normal_?" I ask.

"In her case, yes."

He leaves, and dazed I turn to make my way back over to Jake; dropping back in the same seat beside him.

"You right, Mate?" he asks, looking alarmed as he reaches out and steadies me.

"She didn't try and kill herself. She's got pneumonia," I relay in a mumble.

There's a moment of silence, when Ness asks, tactfully, "How bad is her pneumonia?"

"Pretty bad. She has some bacteria that's resistant to drugs," I reply before dropping my head in my hands. My mind's clouded and sluggish, but at the same time, it's completely overrun.

"So...is she gonna be all right? Jake asks hesitantly.

"I dunno..." I reply before I realise he was asking Ness.

"For her age she has a good chance, but there's a lot of factors involved. She has acute asthma, so it can cause complications," Ness explains, but I close my eyes and shut her out. I can't hear anymore.

Jake doesn't reply, and eventually all three of us descend into silence, when for whatever reason, I decide to break it. I'm restless, and maybe I just need to keep talking.

"I'm moving in with Bella," I say to Jake. "You can stay at the house for as long as you want. I don't care about money for it."

He opens his mouth, but falters. "Mate, you sure...?"

"About what?"

"...About the house."

I snort shortly. "You know I hate living there. I'll sell it to you, if you like."

He scoffs. "I'd never be able to afford it."

"Then tell me what you can afford."

"Edward..." he says suddenly serious. "Mate, you're not in the right frame of mind at the moment.

"Bella and I talked about it Monday night. It's fine."

"That's awesome, Edward—that you and Bella are moving in together," Ness adds.

I flash her half a smile, but Jake suddenly appears uncomfortable.

"I can't ask you to do that?" he mutters, his eyes lowered.

"You're not asking me to do anything."

"Actually...Ness and I were thinking about getting a place together."

I nod. "Okay, then I'll sell it and we'll go halves."

Ness gasps and Jake immediately shakes his head. "Mate, it's your house, _not_ _mine_."

"It's _Pop's_ house," I remind him, "and do you think he'd give a shit if I squared it with you? He knew how your father is."

He shakes his head again, adamantly. "I can't let you do that!"

"How are you going to afford a place in the city with what you old man is paying you?"

His eyes immediately break from mine to meet with his girlfriend's. "We were going to find a place out west..."

I shake my head, pissed off by the mere thought of it. "You're not doing that. Fuck that, and fuck _him_!"

"That house is easily worth fifteen million. I could never ask you to do that, mate. Ever!"

I laugh sarcastically; I wonder whether he thinks I'm not aware of it. "You think I need it? It means _shit_. Bella is lying in there fucking _dying_ , Jake," I point my finger into emergency as I fight to keep my voice from breaking. "She's dying. Money means _shit_. It means fucking nothing. It won't save her, so live the way you want to. Do what makes you happy and don't let that bastard dictate your life to you for another fucking _second_!"

He nods hastily and repeatedly before hooking his elbow around my neck and pulling me to him. "All right. We'll talk about it later, okay?—Babe, go and see what _the fuck's_ taking so long."

"Okay," she says softly, and I feel her hand come down against my shoulder before she rises from the chair and leaves.

I still tense. I don't know how else to react.

"Listen to me," Jake says forcefully, pulling my attention back to him. "She's _not_ dying— _all right_? Bella's not dying."

"Maybe she always was..." I mumble in reply, futilely inhaling back the emotion I can feel flooding me again.

"Maybe you're just a pussy," he teases me, elbowing me in the ribs. "Stop talking like that, okay? We don't know anything yet."

I'm not sure whether it was because of Ness being a nurse and having some kind of influence, but twenty minutes later a doctor approaches me. He hands me a prescription for anti-biotics. Distracted, I thank him and take it, and just when I expect him to turn around and leave, he moves his white coat back and shoves his hands into his pants pockets. "Isabella's been moved to ICU. She has you listed as her next of kin, so if you'd like to accompany me I can explain what's happening with her."

I'm on my feet in an instant, nodding my head. "Okay..."

"We'll wait here for you, mate," I half hear Jake say as the doctor leads me around a corner into a bare room with half a dozen chairs sitting along the back wall.

 _This is where they tell you bad news. In case you flip out and cause a scene_ , is all I can think.

"Just lay it on me," I say resigned.

"She's in critical condition," he informs me; his tone is grave, and he's looking at me as if she's already dead. "We won't know more at the moment. We have to wait and see how she responds to treatment."

"How she responds to the treatment? Are you saying it might not work?" My voice breaks again, and I clear it roughly.

"Possibly," he concedes with a sigh. "She has Acinetobacter baumannii pneumonia that's showing drug resistance. It's normally treated with Beta-lactams—a broad spectrum ant-biotic with a penicillin compound," he adds hastily when it's obvious he's losing me. "Again, we just have to wait and see how she responds to it."

"What are her odds?" I ask, and I'm not sure why.

He shakes his head; he doesn't want to answer. "It's too early to calculate."

"Christ, do you expect her to die?" I demand. I'm not in the mood to hear anymore sugar-coated fucking generic answers. "Just be honest with me!"

He gazes at me for a few moments sombrely, before he responds, "You might want to stay with her for the next two or three days. She could pass at any time."

 **. . .**

Bella lies pale and unmoving. A light pink hospital gown is draped over her with wires and tubes running beneath it, connecting her to machines that beep back her vital signs. The biggest one is down her throat, taped to her face, and I can't see whether her lips are blue anymore. All I can think is this isn't the first time she's been in this condition. Pop explained it to me after the accident. How life support works. She survived then against all odds...

Only, she's sedated and on a ventilator, this time. She has no brain injury, or internal haemorrhaging, but she's still as critically sick.

We have matching tags. She's the patient and I'm classified as family. I had no idea she'd listed me as her next of kin; that she feels that way about me. It only makes me feel like a fucking prick. I started a fight with her on Monday because I was uncertain of how she feels about me, when all along I had completely missed it.

She thinks of me as family.

One of the nurses looking after her makes me wear a surgical mask, so I don't reinfect her. She also brings me extra blankets because Bella's room is cold. Maybe it's just because I'm still so sick, though. I'm afraid to go near her, to touch her, to even breathe near her. The nurse notices and encourages me to talk to her. Insisting Bella can hear what's going on around her. She'll hear me if I talk to her; she might even move.

I'm not sure I believe her, even as I walk to the side of her bed. Bella always seemed so lost and vulnerable to me and this only seems to validate it. I can't fucking stand it, and I reach out to take her hand but suddenly stop myself. An image jumps in my head of Bella turning to sand the moment I touch her and being forced to watch her crumble through my fingers.

I turn back to face the nurse, again. Emily Young, her I.D badge reads. "Do you by any chance have a copy of Pride and Prejudice?"

"The book?"

"Yes."

"There might be a copy in the hospital library. I can see about bringing one up. Her favourite book?"

"Yeah," I mumble almost breaking into a smile. "I asked her who Mr Darcy is and she called me a heathen."

She laughs. "Okay, hon, I'll see what I can do."

She leaves the room and returns a half an hour later carrying the battered paperback. "Lucky—the last one," she says handing it to me.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Can I get you a coffee or anything?" Coffee. Why is everyone offering me coffee?

"No, I'm fine," I mumble.

"Dinner will be served soon. Make sure you eat something," she adds before leaving again.

Dinner? It seems like a ridiculous thing to say. Do they expect me to be hungry? To have any kind of appetite?

Scoffing beneath my breath, I pull up a chair alongside Bella's bed and sit down; opening the book to chapter one. Then clearing my throat roughly, I begin reading out loud, "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." I break off to laugh. "Of course you'd like this book, you goose," I tease her; she doesn't move.

Of course she doesn't move.

I continue reading into the night. I don't stop until I'm finished. I don't eat. I don't sleep. As tired as I am, I don't think I could. Every beep, every sound, would immediately wake me up.

"This Mr Darcy...he's me," I say to her, before almost smirking ironically. "He's me if I wasn't royally fucked over by my mother. And Elizabeth, she's you. Christ, she's _so_ you. So...maybe if I grew up differently, there'd still be hope for us..."

"How'd you like it?" The same nurse Emily asks, taking me off guard; I almost jump out of my skin.

"Bit of a chick's book," I say lightly, "but I can see why she'd like it. How's she doing?" I ask; she's checking the machines and jotting down the results in Bella's chart.

"She's stable," she answers, looking up at me and smiling. "We have the TV series on DVD. If you'd like to watch it I can get it for you. Has Bella seen it, do you know?"

"Erm...I'm not sure," I admit. "She's more of a reader."

"It's great," she says. "I bet she'd love it."

"Okay, sure," I relent because she seems so determined to bring it to me.

Her smile broadens. "It'll be something you can both do to while away the hours."

She returns ten minutes later with the DVD this time, and after opening and removing the first disc, she inserts it into the wall-mounted TV and DVD player.

"There's six episodes," she explains, and after switching on the TV she hands me the DVD case as well as both remote controls.

"Thanks," I say with a small smile, and I have to admit, I'm curious to see these characters that Bella loves come to life.

"Enjoy, and if you feel like sleeping there's pillows and more blankets in the closet."

I nod, glancing at the sofa beneath the window. It looks moderately comfortable, I guess. If I had any plans to sleep; which I don't. "Okay..."

"You really should try and get some sleep, hon. You sound pretty sick," she points out gently, and there's that sympathy that Bella hates. In fact, I half expect her to react to it, to get pissed off, but she doesn't.

I break into a completely fucked-up-sounding laugh, and am forced to explain it because her sympathy is suddenly intensifying. "I don't think I'll be able to."

"All right," she replies flashing me a warm smile this time. "My shift's just about over, so I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"Bye," I reply. Despite the sympathy—that I'm not as averse to as Bella is—she's good at her job and I'm grateful for her efforts to keep me distracted. "And thanks."

The actress who plays Elizabeth kind of looks like Bella. It could be the eyes, and I find myself laughing out loud several times. The way she laughs at Mr Darcy when he insults her, as opposed to being offended by him, especially. It's exactly how Bella would react. Though, maybe not as politely, and probably with some smart arse "darling" in there somewhere.

Christ...I suddenly want to hear her say it. More than I can comprehend it. Why the hell did I ever tell her to stop?

I watch this bloody series until the sun begins to rise, but sometime after the third disc, I fall asleep in the same chair beside Bella, with my head resting on the side of the mattress. I wake up again a few hours later to the sound of the breakfast tray being placed on the table that sits over the foot of the bed.

Raising my head with a start, I glance around groggily as I attempt to get my bearings. I start coughing violently, and I jerk my head away from Bella, despite the fact that I'm still wearing the hospital mask. That's when I noticed it.

Bella's hand is wrapped around my fingers.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: thanks to Kimmie45 and StarryEyedWriter8 and everyone sweet enough to leave a review and fave.  
I'm updating a bit more often these days because the chapters are flowing easily again. Phew. Blocks give me anxiety. This story should be around the mid forties chapter-wise, and I'm almost done writing it :(**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 33**

 **Bella.**

By the time I was six I'd been hospitalised at least a dozen times – never mind that I spent the first three months of my life in the NICU. Born thirteen weeks premature, my lungs were so underdeveloped they never fully recovered.

Doctors used to constantly tell my parents I'd eventually grow out of it, but I never did. It's not as if I ever knew any differently – knew what it was like to never have this chronic illness, or why I had it. At least, not until I came home from hospital from a particularly nasty attack just after my sixth birthday. My parents were fighting, and while that itself wasn't unusual, the subject matter was. They were fighting about me.

"If you'd just kept your cock in your pants until after she was born she wouldn't be so sick all the time. It's your fault, you motherfucker—all your fault," my mother screamed from several rooms away, followed by the sound of what I could only guess was glass shattering against the wall. Her brandy glass, to be more accurate.

From beside me Sammy whimpered and covered his ears. He and Charlie had climbed in bed with me like they always did at the first hint of a fight between our parents. Which was usually ten minutes after my mother tucked all three of us into bed.

I wrapped my arm around him and pulled him further to me, shielding him as best as I could.

"That's rich," My father's booming voice exploded in reply, turning Sammy's whimpers into tears, "considering you were just as much of a fall-down drunk when you were pregnant— _with all three of them_ —as you are now!"

"What's a drunk?" Charlie whispered, the fear in his voice making it tremor.

"It's someone who likes to drink all that stuff in the cellar," I explained.

"Did you forget, you goddamn bastard? I went into labour the same day I caught you with one of your whores, so don't you dare turn this on me! She's sick because of you, and if she dies it'll be all. Your. Fault!"

"You're not gonna die are you, Bella?" Sammy suddenly cried.

"Of course I'm not going to die, silly!" I promised him, while my young mind attempted to process what my parents were arguing about.

I figured it out a few years later. The shock of my father's infidelity had caused my mother to go into labour early, while her alcoholism didn't exactly help matters. What resulted was a life of constantly struggling to breathe, of hospital stays that were often spent in the intensive care unit, and medications that could cause side-effects which had the potential to make me even sicker; like pneumonia. All because my parents were complete and utter fuck-ups and had ruined my life before I was even born.

For a long time after I resented them both. And with each new hospital visit and batch of new medications I was forced to take, I began to hate them as much as I did the terrifying sensation of struggling for air, or waking up so weak and depleted I found myself wishing for death.

Until I was wishing for their deaths.

And Death heard my innermost thoughts. He heard all my resentment, anger and bitterness, and he acted. Or maybe he had always lingered close by me, waiting. I wasn't supposed to survive such an early birth, but I did. Maybe he was so angry at being left empty-handed he waited and took advantage of every opportunity when it arose. If he couldn't have me, he'd take my parents, my brothers... But he still wants me.

Of that I'm positive.

It's not something you can ever get used to, being plunged into a nightmare you can't wake from. Ever since I was little I always had the same reoccurring dream of running through the woods being chased by monsters I could only hear but never see. The fevered mind can conjure up the worst kind of horrors and the accompanying fear is always as vivid.

At first there's darkness, a darkness that is all encompassing and inescapable, and from within the darkness is sound. Sound I don't quite understand. It's like hearing voices from underwater, but it's all around me, as if the darkness is sound and the sound is darkness.

Then slowly light begins to break up the darkness and the sound becomes voices I can comprehend. Voices I know.

Edward's voice, but not Edward's voice...

Then there's the moment when full clarity descends upon me, and I realise what's happened and why. I'm in the ICU from either asthma, pneumonia, or both and I've lost another—christ knows how many weeks.

"Seven days, sweetie," the nurse answers my barely coherent question, "but you've come through it like a rock star."

The light burns my eyes, and with each breath of air that's pulled into my lungs my chest burns with it. "Hand-some..." the word rasps from between my lips.

"I'm sorry, hon? What was that?" she lowers her ear closer to me.

"Edwa... Ed..." I gasp for breath, my eyes dipping in exhaustion. God, I hate feeling like this.

"Oh—Edward!" Her voice brightens. "He should be here soon, darl," she says, putting an oxygen mask over my face, and weakly, I shove it off.

"No..." I murmur as I'm steadily pulled back into unconsciousness, and just as I feel her place the bloody mask back over me again.

When I wake again there he is. He looks like hell, he hasn't shaved in christ knows when, and those intense eyes of his are tarnished by a maze of broken capillaries.

"Hey, baby..." he says softly in a voice that's fractured and hoarse and even more marred by that ever constant pain he carries. But I love when he calls me _baby_ , and right now, I need to hear it. I always thought it'd be a term of endearment that would make me cringe, but not when Edward says it.

"Hey..." I echo, immediately feeling the smile tighten on my face before I realise it's the elastic of the oxygen mask. I pull it down and Edward's eyes immediately widen in alarm.

"Bella..." he utters out as if the very act of removing that damn thing from my face will be the end of me. He secures it back over my mouth and nose and I burst into tears.

I start rambling until I'm coughing uncontrollably. I can barely breathe and the pity I usually detest in bucket loads from others is suddenly turned toward myself. I reach out and grab him, attempting to pull him closer to me but I have the strength of a newborn kitten. I'm not even sure why I'm crying. I'm just so relieved to be out of the darkness and in the light with him again.

He bends over me, his hand cupped to my cheek; his eyes burning with so much emotion his forehead begins to crease with it. "Hey—Baby, it's okay. I'm here," he attempts to reassure me, and all I can hear in the timber of his voice is pain, so much pain despite how obviously sick he's been. "Do you want me to lie with you?"

I somehow manage to nod, and the moment he's beside me I turn and cling to him. He wraps his arms around me, and that sense of security I feel from him is suddenly palpable. I know now that when I fall back to sleep there'll be no more monsters in the woods. In fact, the only thing that follows me in my dreams is his warmth and smell.

I'm at RPA. A nurse let it slip a couple of days later, but what can I do? Freak out over something ridiculous and inconsequential? Except to me it _is_ consequential. There's too many memories attached to this hospital. Memories I will never forget no matter how much I pretend they never happened. The only thing I have to concern myself with is concentrating on getting better so I can leave. In the beginning it was easy. All I'm really aware of is the ratio of unconsciousness and lucidity that I fight every day to regulate. And Edward, of course. Edward whose constant presence is the only peace I can hold onto. He's here beside me every time I open my eyes, whether during the night or the day. Until he isn't, and that's when the nightmares return.

The darkness consumes me again, while Sammy's voice, Charlie's, calls to me in that seemingly endless void of space. Until it's Edward's, yelling at me.

"What have you done, Bella!?" he shouts in a voice wasted by such an intense fear it only increases my own.

"Edward!" I hear my own voice call out to him repeatedly as his fades. "Edward, come back..." I cry, until I wake up screaming into the semi concealed darkness of the hospital wing I'm in. I'm sitting upright, my accelerated heart beeping back to me from the monitor they still insist on hooking me up to. My hand clutches my chest as I struggle to catch my breath, while my eyes dart hastily around the room, looking for him.

A nurse comes running in a moment later, and begins to fuss with me.

"What's happening, baby girl?" she asks, taking my temperature and shoving the pulse monitor-thing back on my finger.

 _Baby girl_? Christ, nurses and their bedside manner. I actually prefer the firm, no-nonsense, down-to-business types, over those who, for whatever reason, insist on treating you like you have the faculties of a two year old.

" _Bella_!" I insist.

"Sorry, sweets?"

"You can call me Bella, and where is he?"

"Where is _who_ , baby girl?" she asks, shoving the oxygen cannula into my nose. I hate these things worse that I do the masks. The constant flow of oxygen often feels as if it's going straight into my brain.

"Christ!" I cry, my frustration only increasing. "You can't miss him—tall, eyes of steel, has a bloody angst-ridden expression permanently creased into his forehead?"

Yesterday, I think it was yesterday, I woke up to find him dozing in the chair beside me. His elbow was propped on the arm, his head resting in his palm, while his long legs were stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles. I only gazed at him for the longest time, marvelling at how effortlessly he captured my heart, despite every effort on my part to keep myself at a distance from him. He looked so tired and still so worn down from the evil virus I'd given him. I didn't want to disturb him, but naturally, my chest began to tickle until I couldn't hold off the spasms of coughing that began to erupt from me. He woke up with a start, his expression surprised, before his eyes met mine and a warm, sleepy grin spread slowly across his face.

"Oh, the young man who was here yesterday? I'm afraid the matron threw him out, babe," she explains. "Family is only allowed overnight in intensive care."

" _Family_? He _is_ my family—christ!" I shake my head in attempt to clear the fogginess from it, when she hands me my phone.

"Would you like to call him?"

I take it from her, pressing my thumb clumsily to the home button while she busies herself with my IV.

"DON'T drug me!" I warn her, because god knows I'll be falling back to sleep soon enough. My energy still fades quickly. I'm lucky to last an hour before I'm pulled back under.

She holds her hands up, palms facing me, while a smirk pulls on her lips. "Just checking your fluid, bab—"

" _Bella_!" I cut in impatiently. Christ, I hate hospitals. "How long have I been here?"

"Here in the ward, or overall?"

"Overall."

"You were in the ICU for six days, and this is your third night up here."

Almost a week and a half... It feels like only a couple of days.

"Thanks," I'm mumble, distracted.

Nurse Treats-me-like-an-infant only flashes me a ridiculously broad smile, before hooking up a bag of Sodium Chloride to my IV.

I wait impatiently for her to leave before I open my phone. There's a message from Edward:

 **They kicked me out, baby. I'll be back first thing in the morning.**

I feel like crying, and almost do, and just as I move my finger to call him, I stop myself. It's almost 3 am. It'd be selfish of me to wake him. He needs to sleep as much as I do.

I'm not convinced the bloody nurse didn't shove a sedative in my IV, because less than twenty minutes later I'm once again overcome by exhaustion. I don't last another two.

It's morning when I wake again, nightmare-free this time, by a plump, middle aged woman who crashes the breakfast tray down on my over-the-bed table. As she does, something falls off and plods to my chest, and reaching out, I pick it up. It's a paperback copy of Pride and Prejudice. I have that familiar feeling as if I've just read it again, when in reality it's been almost two years.

"Hungry, dear?" the same lady asks me, noticing she's woken me.

"Yeah," I lie, giving her an accommodating smile. If I've eaten anything over the last couple of days I can't recall. Yesterday Edward bought me chocolate covered peanuts, the thing I love to eat most in the world, but even they couldn't revive my appetite.

I drink the tea. It's really all I can manage without the thought of vomiting, and less than an hour later I take the first of my day's numerous naps. I say _naps_ like it's a voluntary thing, but I really have no choice. My body sleeps whether I want it to or not.

I'm woken by a doctor roughly an hour later. He sits on my bed, a warm but weary smile pulling naturally on his lips. We're pretty familiar with each other. He's a senior pulmonary specialist in the area and he often rotates between RPA, St Vincent's and Westmead. The prognosis: I'm not getting out of here yet; not for another week, at least. My lung function is around 65-70% and they're not letting me go until it's back into the nineties—something that makes me want to sob, despite the fact that I was expecting it. I'm not in denial. I realise I'm too sick to go anywhere at the moment.

He runs through all my test results with me. He knows he doesn't have to speak in lay terms for my benefit. I understand all the terminology he's throwing at me. Christ knows I've heard it enough times in my life.

After going over my lung function and haemoglobin levels he then starts explaining my toxicology results. This is when I interject.

"Toxicology...?" It's a first and I'm confused. "Wait...you gave me a drug test?"

He pauses and subtly clears his throat while his gaze breaks momentarily from mine. "Yes, that's correct."

"...What were you looking for?"

"You were admitted as a suspected suicide attempt," he eventually confesses, before he clears his throat again and adjusts his rimless glasses on the bridge of his nose.

I open my mouth to speak but I have nothing. I have no idea how I came to be at the hospital. I have no memory of it. I want to say Edward found me, but suspected suicide...?

"Who...who suspected that?" my voice almost fails me.

"I believe it was your...flatmate?" he puts to me, his brows raising as if he doesn't want to overstep.

"My flatmate?" I echo vacantly. "Was this flatmate a _he_?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Oh my god! How could he think that?!" I burst to no one in particular, and definitely not to the doctor, and yet he answers regardless.

"It turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because he forced you to expel a lot of sputum that cleared your airways."

I can only stare at him as I feebly attempt to process it. A blessing? He thought I tried to kill myself and it was a blessing? My mind starts racing ahead of me, to make sense of it, but I really can't think coherently when I'm this weak. All it does is make me faint and lightheaded.

"He thought I overdosed?" I whisper, slumping back against my pillow. The pillow Edward had brought me from home.

"I assume so, yes," the doctor answers in a quiet voice.

"He doesn't trust me..." I utter, and it's not out of disbelief but disappointment, because I thought we'd finally passed the last hurdle. But we haven't. That's obvious enough now. Edward doesn't trust me, and as the realisation of it hits me I burst into tears.

Of course crying unleashes a whole menagerie of complications on me. Not only do my eyes start to run, but everything else, and all too soon I start choking. This is when the doctor injects me into another round of involuntary unconsciousness.

I'm out for a good two hours and when I wake Edward is sitting in a chair beside my bed. I'm wearing the damn nasal cannula again, and know I can't remove it; not without giving handsome a stroke

The moment I meet his gaze he smiles, and despite the fact that he's clean shaven and smells ridiculously good, he's a complete wreck. He looks worn and gaunt as if he hasn't eaten in weeks. It's obvious now how my latest stint in near death has impacted him. His eyes are overrun with not only fear but pain, and together with that intense hue of his it makes him almost appear alarmed.

He rises to his feet and bends over me to press his lips gently to my brow. For a moment I'm engulfed by the dizzying aroma of him. It almost completely distracts me from the ache I woke up with in my heart.

Almost...

I'm in no frame of mind to even contemplate holding back my emotions, and fresh tears begin to burn behind my eyes before I'm even aware of them.

With one hand I clumsily brush them away, while breaking Edward's gaze to search for the control to incline my bed with the other.

He hands it to me, his eyes sealed to mine while they multiply with concern.

"Hey..." he cups his palm to my cheek, "what's the matter, baby?" His tone his seeped in tenderness and it only makes matters worse.

"Edward..." I manage to articulate before pausing to cough back _sputum_ , and whatever else that's beginning to run down the back of my throat, "you...you thought I...overdosed." It's a statement. I don't bother asking, and his expression alone is validation enough.

His brow knots heavily only moments before his eyes sever from mine and pull to the floor. He takes a heavy breath while guilt clearly slumps in his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Bella," he says softly in his defence.

I immediately shake my head. My intention wasn't to guilt him, but to understand why. So, I put that one word to him in barely a whisper that's quickly followed by tears as they spill silently down my face.

His eyes raise back to mine and this time they're flooding with anxiety. "I'm sorry, baby. I...I saw the empty bottle and... It happened so fast. I was just desperate to get you to help. I'm sorry..." he reiterates and he means it. If his tone wasn't evident enough, the pleading in his eyes seals it.

I shake my head again, because I don't want to hear his apologies. "Do you really think I could do that?" I ask him, and I'm fearful for his answer; his answer that doesn't come.

He opens his mouth to reply but quickly closes it again in silence. It speaks volumes more.

"Oh my god," I sob, and I'm almost immediately breathless. "I-I told you I-d never do that again!" I declare. I don't have the energy to be angry with him, but it hurts me to the bottom of my heart that he can't trust me.

"I know," he says anxiously, before taking a step away from me. "I'm so—"

"You're sorry," I finish for him. "If you can't trust me, Edward, then where do we go from here?"

In reply he hangs his head, looking completely defeated, and I can't stand it.

"Edward!" my voice raises and then catches, and for the next two minutes I near vomit up my lungs.

Edward immediately reacts, lurching me fully upright before he starts belting me on the back. I feel like my lungs are going to collapse, and by the time the nurse arrives to shove the nebuliser mask over my face, I'm near unconscious against his chest. But I don't let him go, I can't. I cling to him, because he is all that's stopping me from falling into the abyss below me.

"I don't want to upset you, baby. Maybe I should leave for a while and let you rest," he murmurs against my forehead after I'm finally breathing clearly again, but I'm rapidly succumbing to exhaustion.

"If you leave me I'll kill you," I say weakly in reply, steadfastly gripping his shirt in my fists even as my strength wanes with each passing breath I take.

"I'm not going to leave you," he replies in a soft voice, as if he were suddenly distracted.

"Edward...?" I mumble, closing my eyes and feeling myself already beginning to slip away.

"Yeah?"

"I...I just don't think you can handle me."

* * *

 **A/N: let me know how you liked, or not. Or you can anon flame and tell me how highfalutin my writing is, or other such flowery insults. All good.  
xoxo**


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: I'm almost done with chapter 40 so I'm going to do another quick update.**  
 **Thank you, Kim and Starry8. Loves ya lots!**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 34**

 **Edward.**

Bella's not angry that I thought she tried to kill herself, and I wish she was. She only stares at me as if the knowledge of it cuts her deeply. It's as if it's too much realisation for her and she can't comprehend it; that I could think so little of her.

She doesn't mention it again and it sits between us like the Grand Canyon. I'm not sure she has the strength to bring it up just yet. She's frail, she's lost so much weight, and the spark in her eyes has gone flat. I'm worried about her, but I sure as hell can't tell her. I'm not about to break her rules right now, but she's wrong about me. I _can_ handle her. In the beginning, I couldn't and we were both aware of it, but not anymore. Besides, it's never been a matter of whether I can handle her or not, it's whether I want to; whether she means enough for me to try. She does; she always has.

She means so much to me I've put her happiness above my own. I want to hold her up when she's down, and tell her she's beautiful and worth every second that she breathes when she has her grandmother in her head. I want to do this for her, because that's what she does for me. Whether she thinks she does or not, she's the reason I get out of bed in the morning. Why I no longer feel like I'm living a lie and just going through the motions; existing, rather than living.

No matter how much she tries to push me away, I'm not giving her up. Though, I'm more worried about whether I'll push _her_ away. How many times will I fuck it up before she's done with me?

She's in the hospital for another ten days before she's released, but she's still so sick. For the first week she's home, she barely eats and spends most of her time puking up mucous and sleeping. Her recovery is slow, and while I'm impatient for her to be better, she isn't. It surprises me by how accepting of it she appears, but it shouldn't. This is her life; it's all she's known. Still, it's obvious when she's recovering, because she starts arguing with me.

"Why aren't you at work?" she finally puts the question to me more than a week after being home. She wanted to sit outside in the sun, and after digging out her deck chairs from the under-house storage, and killing the multiple Redback spiders, I helped her down the back stairs and into one before wrapping her in a blanket. This is when she turned to me, as if it suddenly occurred to her.

"I took some time off," I answer, sitting on the chair beside her and brushing her hair back off her forehead.

Her brow ridges, and with a heavy sigh, her eyes break from mine as she chews on her bottom lip. "You really didn't need to do that," she murmurs.

"Of course I did," I insist, because it goes without saying, despite how independent she insists on being. She left the hospital with a mountain of prescriptions; medications she has to take at all times during the night and day. I've set my alarm for every three hours to remind myself. The first few days after she was home, she barely woke as I put the nebuliser mask over her face and switched it on. She couldn't do it herself, and I was so sleep deprived and worried about her I would have been useless at work.

"It's not the first time I've been sick like this," she says in a quiet voice.

"When was the last time?" I ask hesitantly.

"Three years ago when I got my memories back. I was in the ICU but I wasn't on a ventilator," she mumbles in reply before resting her head back toward the sky and closing her eyes. "Edward?" she asks after a pause before turning back to me. There's suddenly something really bloody lost and vulnerable about her expression.

"Yeah...?" I reply, and for whatever reason I feel like holding my breath.

"I'd...I'd never do that to you," she whispers. "You need me."

I know immediately what she's hinting at, and without realising, I exhale heavily. "You need me, too."

She only stares at me for several seconds before a small smile pulls on her lips. "I do," she says softly, "but—"

"No buts," I immediately interject. "No buts, no clauses, and no fucking outs. I'm here to stay whether you want me to or not."

Her smile turns rueful. "Yes, Mr Assertive."

I smile in return, I can't help it. "You're doing my head in."

She almost laughs; it shoots from her nose silently before she breaks my gaze and turns her face back toward the sun. "Who replaced my front door?" she asks after another lapse, her eyes closed.

"Emmett."

"How much do I owe him?"

"Bella..."

"Edward..." she imitates me.

"I'm the one who broke it," I admit.

"I figured." She sounds suddenly distracted.

"Are you still angry at me?" I ask, and I'm not sure I want to hear her answer.

"Why would I be angry?" she replies in a soft voice, her eyes remaining closed. "I understand why you'd think that way. I'm...just hurt more than anything."

"I know," I say quietly. "I'm sorry..."

"Yeah," she half shrugs as if she's resigned, "but I hate that you don't trust me."

"I do, baby," I insist, but I'm not entirely sure that I do, in the sense that she's referring to anyway, and of course she sees right through me.

"You're a terrible liar," her tone is cynical, but she sounds frustrated at the same time. And as hurt as she just admitted.

"I trust you," I reiterate, but my conviction's already waning and giving me away, "but after that weekend, I just... I wasn't sure if it was too much for you."

"It _was_ too much for me," she admits simply, "but it wasn't reason enough to kill myself. I would never do that to you, Edward. I _need_ you to believe me." Her voice catches in the back of her throat, and she suddenly sounds close to tears.

"I do—I promise you," I appeal to her, reaching out to grab her hand. "I...I saw the empty Prozac bottle, and I jumped to the wrong conclusions. I just...I had no idea you could get so dangerously sick from the flu. I should have known. Christ, I'm a fucking idiot sometimes."

She throws me a small, sad smile before pulling her hand free from mine to wipe her eyes. "No, you're not. I don't usually get pneumonia from the flu. Sometimes I do, but you couldn't have known."

"Who gave you the Prozac? Dr Jenks?" I change the subject.

"Yeah... He's been prescribing them to me for a few years. I stopped seeing him and ran out." She half shrugs in explanation, and it makes sense. I should have realised.

"We're okay, though?"

Her smile this time is warm. "Of course we are. I still don't think you can handle me, though." There's something ironic about her tone, and I don't like it.

"I can handle you," I say lowly.

She hums as if she were humouring me.

"Bella..." I sigh. "It was just shitty timing that I had the camp after that weekend." Though, I barely recall the three days I was stuck in the mountains with a bunch of drunk kids. I was that sick myself. It's a month later and I still don't feel completely back to normal.

"It always is," she mumbles, and there's a bitter edge to her tone before she angles her face toward the sun again. Her cheeks are hollow... Christ, I really need to get her to eat more.

"Do you forgive me?" I ask, breaking the momentary silence that falls over us.

She smiles to herself, her eyes closed. "I can't really hold a grudge against you when you saved my life."

"Christ..." I mumble, my thoughts drifting back to that afternoon. I really thought I'd lost her, and it was the first time in my life that I felt completely useless; that without her my life, it would be irrelevant.

"How the hell did you make me throw up?" she asks turning to face me, her forehead quirked. "Did you stick your fingers down my throat?"

I almost smile in return. "Is there any other way?"

She sort of scoffs. "You're definitely a keeper, handsome."

I break into a natural grin, and grabbing her hand again, I press my lips to her knuckles. "You scared the life out of me," I confess.

"I was pretty scared myself," she says, her eyes drifting from mine. "I haven't been that sick in a while. I hate it."

"Do you remember anything? Jake said he called you..." I prompt her.

She nods, frowning as if she were trying to recall. "He did. I'm not sure what day it was though. I think I was waiting for you to come home. I just remember being so disorientated I couldn't think clearly, and I was so sleepy."

"Jesus..." I mutter.

"Hey," she says, her tone reproachful. "No attempting to wrap me in cotton wool."

I smirk. "You know I will regardless."

"Edward..." she complains, "I have to be the worst person for someone like you."

"What's that mean?" I put to her, confused.

"You worry more than anyone I've ever known. You worry so much you make _me_ worry," she explains, her eyes fixed to mine, wide and serious.

"You're my girlfriend, I'm meant to worry about you," I remind her in an attempt to lighten things up.

"You worry too much."

"I can't help it, baby. I've watched you fall slowly apart for months now."

"I'm fine," she insists, which is ridiculous. She might not have attempted suicide, but she's still not fine. She's nowhere close to it. All the crap we were going through that weekend before the camp hasn't gone anywhere, and all too soon it resurfaces.

She's still like a wave, a pendulum. She told me way too much too soon, and it isn't long before I realise she's pulling back from me again.

A month after she left the hospital, we both return to work and our routine slowly starts up again, but that's when I notice. She falls into those down days just as frequently, but she refuses to talk to me about it anymore. She even put an end to our Wednesday talk days. With Bella, it's always two steps forward and three back. Always. I thought she'd be better after telling me about her grandmother, but it's the opposite. She's shut herself tightly sealed and the only intimacy she wants from me is sex. It's a distraction she uses against me. It's bloody therapy for her until I'm no longer sure what's real and what's not. It becomes a constant struggle to differentiate between when she wants to be with me and when she wants a diversion.

Living with her only makes it worse, because it's right in front of me and I can't even pretend to be in denial. I really need to confront her, but after what happened that weekend I'm reluctant to. I don't want to witness her come apart again, but at the same time, when she's closing herself back behind her wall, she's worse.

She's back in therapy with Dr Jenks, and that's something, at least. Right now I'm not seeing any improvement, and I wish to god she'd let me come along, but that's never going to happen. My only option is to give her a bit more time. She told me more than I was ever expecting; her deepest, darkest demons. She probably still needs to process it before she tells me more. That's what I keep telling myself, at least.

Jasper often stops by, way too much. He told me not long after Bella was home to call him _Jazz_ —as if I ever will. Bella seems to think it's a good sign that we're getting along; it made her so happy I agreed. I just don't say his name at all now. I'm not sure it's such a bad thing, either.

While Bella can chat easily with Jasper and Alice, I realise it's superficial. She puts on the same light-hearted front she did with me when I'd first met up with her again.

"Everything's fine, darling," she said to her brother too many times, until he started to notice it. It's all a front and Bella's gone again. We can all see it. He doesn't ask her about herself anymore, he only gazes at me looking really bloody helpless, and leaves the talking to Alice. He prefers to keep me company now, which is awkward as shit. I still don't have much in common with him, and half the time he's stoned.

"Mate, get her drunk," he says covertly in my ear as he and Alice prepare to leave. It's Friday night and Bella invited them for dinner. She wanted Jake and Ness to come as well, but I made up some bullshit about them having plans to go to the opera with his parents. Jake would have seen straight through her, and then I'd have him on my back, as well. Since he met Ness, he's become a bloody relationship expert. "You know she spills her guts when she's pissed."

He's right, and it didn't even occur to me. It should have, though. I guess I'm afraid it will turn to shit again. The last time it screwed with her so much she ended up almost dying. My shrink once told me repressed emotion often manifests physically, and I believe it. Bella's still holding in a lot of poison. Poison that has the potential to be deadly, and I'm not going through that hell again.

The only thing is Bella's clued onto the fact that alcohol makes her more _honest_. I have no idea how she was unaware of it before now, but she's become reluctant to drink as much as she once did. I use the excuse of our anniversary a few weeks later. It's been twelve months since Bella cured me of my aversion to being touched in her lounge room. Twelve months since she turned my life so upside down I can barely comprehend how I lived without her.

I take her to the Shangri-La hotel for dinner and order the most expensive bottle of champagne on the menu. She's wearing a red dress with a neckline that's a little too revealing. It's all for my benefit. She's promised me a night of " _mind-numbing"_ sex when we get back home, and I'm looking forward to it more than I'm willing to admit. I'm just not sure we're going to make it with what I have in-store for her.

She's still a little too thin, but otherwise she's almost back to where she was before the pneumonia. Her energy has returned and then some. I have no idea how she does it, unless it's a side effect of all the medication she's been on the last couple of months.

"Every single woman in here is staring at you, handsome," she leans toward me and whispers in my ear, giving me a direct line of sight down her cleavage, "and I'm not sure whether it's because of how gorgeous you are or because you're _Edward Cullen_ ," she alludes to my grandfather's legacy.

"They're not staring at me, they're staring at you," I murmur, my eyes on her breasts, before I top up her champagne glass. "You're easily the most beautiful woman in the room."

She smirks at me, looking entirely too cynical, before bringing the glass to her lips and taking a sip; seemingly unaware that this is the third time I've refilled it. "You've become a real charmer, haven't you?" She grabs my chin. "I want you to wear this tie later." Her hand moves from my face and she tugs on it. _"Only_ this tie." Her eyes darken and I'm forced to clear the heat from my throat. She's tipsy and already hornier than a tomcat.

"And you have to wear your heels," I reciprocate.

Her grin broadens, her laughter pushing through her nose, when she picks up the menu to look through it. "I'm going to start buying my shoes at Payless since you enjoy ruining them."

"I've bought you five pairs of them already," I remind her.

"Honey, you have possibly the worst taste in women's shoes," she teases me.

"Why didn't you say something?" I say. Christ, those things cost a damn fortune.

"I'm not about to complain when you buy me gifts; how tacky."

I sigh. "Next time you're coming with me."

"Sure," she says simply.

"What do you feel like?" I ask, veering off the subject that I have zero idea about women.

"Hmm... I can't decide. You order for me."

I pick up the menu and scan through it. I'm not sure what I'm in the mood for, and Bella has the appetite of a sparrow, as it is.

"You know what I was wondering?" she speaks up a moment later.

"What were you wondering?" I reply, internally debating over the main course. "Lobster?"

"Certainly, darling." She does that voice, and I glance at her raising a dubious brow. She rolls her eyes. " _Sure, love,_ " she decides to do a terrible imitation of the western suburbs accent, instead.

I shake my head. "Are you going to tell me what you were wondering?" I remind her.

"Yes, I was wondering why you and Emmett never appear in the social pages."

I look up at her, my brow furrowing. "Should we?"

"Are you serious?" she asks sceptically. I open my mouth to reply when she adds, "Jake's in them all the time, and Rosalie, of course. I even see your baby-momma, Lauren Mallory, from time to time—"

"Bella..."

"—But never you and Emmett."

"That's because my grandfather paid a lot of money to keep us out," I admit.

"Ah..."

"You're never in them, either," I point out.

"Obviously not. I'm an orphan and poorer than a church mouse."

"Bella..." I repeat her name with a heavy sigh. Joking about her family's death is one of her covers. I learned that the day of the _harbour tunnel_.

"Oh, lighten up."

I groan only half beneath my breath, but decide not to push it. I'm going to hammer her later on; in more ways than one.

"So...does anyone at your work know of your _secret identity_?" she asks, and I've decided on lobster but am stuck on dessert.

I smirk to myself while deliberating between the Mascarpone and Panna Cotta. "I doubt it. They run in different circles."

"Don't they wonder why you drive an eighty-thousand dollar Audi?"

"It's five years old—Mascarpone for dessert?"

"Certainly, but what about your address? The admin lady has to know for sure."

"I gave them Emmett's," I answer, tilting the menu forward to wink at her.

She sucks in her breath jokingly. "You fraudster."

"I really need to buy a new car. It got pretty banged up. I don't trust it anymore..." I immediately pause, gauging Bella carefully, worried I've said something stupid.

"I agree," she replies unfazed. "What?"

"Nothing." I signal to the waiter.

Dinner arrives; she eats barely half, but downs another two glasses of champagne. Her cheeks are starting to turn ruddy, her eyes bright, and she's getting too adventurous with me beneath the table. I need to get her home and quick.

I manage to get another glass in her during dessert. This is when she pulls a small wrapped box from her purse and slides it toward me. "Happy anniversary, handsome."

I immediately break into a grin and carefully unwrap it. Inside is a silver frame of me and Bella on our first date at the Italian restaurant. I almost look relaxed, despite both my hands resting on the table clenched into fists, while Bella sits angled close to me, her fingers millimetres from mine. I remember the waiter offering to take our photo, but afterwards, I was so frazzled I forgot to purchase it. I had no idea Bella had, either.

"You like?" she asks, and christ, she's beginning to slur. This is the first time she's really drank since getting sick. I should have realised it would affect her more.

"I like," I murmur, before reaching into my pocket and pulling out the small blue box. Taking her hand, I place it in her palm.

"Christ, handsome, there's not a rock inside, is there?" she asks, and while she sounds teasing, there's something in her tone I can't decipher.

I hold up two fingers, giving her a hint, because if I was going to propose it wouldn't be in some pretentious restaurant with all the patrons wondering whether I'm _that_ Cullen.

She opens it, revealing the diamond stud earrings just as her breath audibly catches. "Bloody hell—these have to be at least 2 carats each!"

"You don't like them?" I ask, my heart dropping. I knew I should have taken Jake's advice to take Ness with me to help pick out a present.

She glances up at me, her expression surprised, but then it's becoming hard to tell. "I _love_ them."

I feel my shoulders relax in relief, just as she attempts clumsily to remove her earrings. I watch her, fearful she's going to pierce a second hole in her ears or lose one of the diamonds in her half-eaten Mascarpone.

"Here, let me help you," I say, sliding my chair closer to her. Taking the earrings from her, I slide each one through the small holes in her lobes before fumbling to put the back on them. "There." I pause to press my lips to the side of her neck. Her skin is warm and as soft as usual, and I'm becoming as horny as she is.

She turns her head and kisses me, until I'm forced to pull back with a rapidly growing erection.

"You want to go?" I say, my breath practically failing.

She only nods her head, her eyes zeroing in on my lips.

She can barely walk, and she staggers against me so much, almost losing her footing several times, that I end up practically carrying her to the wharf.

"I'm drunk and you're nothing!" she exclaims as I attempt to get her into the car at Miller's Point.

"Someone has to drive," I explain, buckling her in.

"If I didn't know b-better I swear you planned this all along to take ad-advantage of me," she stumbles over her words, and she couldn't be more accurate.

"I'll make coffee when we get home," I promise her, quickly kissing her forehead, but by the time I pull into the carport, she's completely out cold beside me.

"Shit..." I mutter, knowing I've probably just screwed up the best chance I had to get her to open up to me.

Hoisting her into my arms, I carry her completely unconscious body to the front door, struggling to unlock it before getting her to bed.

I have a shower, wanting to kick myself for overdoing it. Just as I'm about to step out, Bella comes stumbling into the bathroom before she throws up our two hundred dollar anniversary meal.

"Christ, Edward, why'd you let me drink so much?" she hollers into the toilet bowl after the third round.

"I lost track of how much you had," I lie as I kneel down behind her, my hands clamped around her hair.

"I shouldn't even be drinking at all with the medication I'm on!" she says, and almost groaning out loud, I drop my forehead to the back of her neck. I didn't even stop to consider it.

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't hold a gun to my head..." she mumbles, expelling a heavy sigh. Then propping her elbow on the toilet seat she rests her forehead in her palm. "I'm just—I'm tired of feeling like crap all the damn time!" she suddenly blurts before bursting into tears. "I'm tired of it."

"I know," I say softly, feeling like a giant fucking prick. "Talk to me, okay? You're shutting me out again." I decide to put the plan into motion anyway.

"Talk," she mutters sarcastically. "You want to know why I'm no longer talking?" She turns her head to me and arches an accusing eyebrow.

I only shake my head, already regretting this stupid fucking plan.

"Because the last time I did, you lost _all_ faith in me!" I immediately open my mouth to contradict her, to tell her I haven't lost faith in her at all, when she quickly adds, "If you can't trust me, that's the end, Edward. That's the end of us."

* * *

 **Beta Note: Hiya! Kimmie45 here. These 2 right? Can't bash Edward for letting Bella have alcohol and not bash her. She knew she was on meds. Just a little more patience with these two.**

 **Hi Sam! Congratulations on Baby Nash! So happy for you.**

* * *

 **A/N: Don't worry she frustrates me too. Right now I'm staying true to who she is and what she's still dealing with. She makes me feel bi-polar, though. She's going to come to a very important revelation very soon.  
Thank you for reading.**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: My author's notes suck. I say the same monotonous shit every update, so ditto.  
**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 35**

 **Bella**

Christ, I love living with Edward. I love the smell of him all through my house, and the sight of his clothes in my wardrobe. The feel of him pressed against my back every night as I sleep, and doing the dishes with him every night after dinner. I love that he's still so fumbling and unsure of himself, and that he tries so hard for me.

I didn't know it was possible to love anyone so much, but as much as I love him, as much as the thought of losing him scares me above and beyond everything else, I know I'm no good for him while my head's so messed up. At the same time, my bloody shrink has it exactly right. Edward has the ability to tear me apart while I'm so unhealthy. He reaches in and pulls my heart from my chest with just that steely gaze of his alone, and he still makes me feel entirely too much; more than what I'm comfortable with most days. And whenever I'm on that roller-coaster of emotions with him, I start acting irrationally.

I have two choices, break up with him and lose what's left of my heart and soul, or allow him to see everything about me and leave it up to him whether he really wants to be with me. My only alternative is the latter because I'm not about to let him go; not for anything. But what's more important is I get that trust back with him, whether we ever really had it or not. I can't trust him when he so evidently doesn't trust me, and it's throwing us into limbo.

I told myself in the early days with him that if we made it to a year we'd be okay. I didn't really believe it was possible back then, but here we are. I barely remember our anniversary, and I'm beginning to become concerned that I'm turning into a raging alcoholic like my mother. A drunk like my mother and a nympho like my old man.

Christ, as if we need any more complications.

Since my first appointment back with him, Dr Jenks has been suggesting I bring Edward along. At first, I was suspicious, certain they'd got together to plan this, until I was forced to remind myself that he was Edward's shrink first. I can't allow myself to fall into the same trap of mistrust that almost broke us up before.

"You can't expect Edward to fully trust you when you're not being completely honest with him yourself," he tells me at our latest appointment.

"I'm not lying to him!" I immediately declare, shifting uncomfortably in the stiff chesterfield chair, affronted that he would suggest such a thing.

He releases a short breath as if I'm a child. "It's not a matter of lying, it's not even a matter of refusing to share parts of your past with him, it's keeping him deliberately at arm's length despite knowing it will be detrimental to your relationship."

I shake my head, adamant. "I told him a lot about my past. A-bloody-lot and all it did was convince him I was even more screwed up than before. He called me in as a suicide—christ!"

"I'm aware of that," he says patiently. "But it turned out to be—"

"Not the point!" I cut him off. Yes, had Edward not thought I'd overdosed he wouldn't have made me throw up, and I probably would have asphyxiated, but christ!

"Bella..." He uses that overly patient and slightly patronising tone again. "How do you think he's feeling when he knows you're deliberately closing yourself off from him?"

"I just...I don't want him to think that way about me. Not handsome. Anyone one else I wouldn't care, but not him!"

"I doubt he thought that way about you because you revealed so much about yourself to him. It's more than likely because it was sudden and unexpected after months of giving him very little," he points out calmly.

"I didn't plan it, believe me."

"No one is saying you have to tell him everything you're feeling, every moment you're feeling it, but you do have to keep that line of communication with him open."

"What do you suggest?" I concede, huffing in frustration.

"Simply tell him when you're having a bad day."

"I used to do that, all the damn time, but it was never enough with him. He was always badgering me for details, then I completely spilled everything to him and he was immediately convinced I was suicidal."

"Shutting yourself off now won't dispel those concerns he has."

"I know!" I declare impatiently. "He-he just worries too much, and do you know the way he looks at me?"

He shakes his head, a small smile twitching on his lips.

"Like he's been bloody struck by Cupid's arrow. Christ, sometimes I think he's the one who's out of his ever-loving mind."

"You can't fault him for loving you, Bella," he replies, looking like he's attempting to conceal his amusement from me.

"I don't understand it, though. Why me?"

"Why him?" he counters.

"Have you seen him?" I arch a brow in emphasis.

"That's very superficial."

I jerk a shoulder. "I'm only human and he's bloody-well gorgeous."

"I don't believe for a moment that's all you see in him."

"Of course I don't. He's the sweetest man alive, and all that pain he carries. Christ, he makes me bloody maternal, which is ironic considering I'm more barren than the Arabian Peninsula."

"There's always surrogacy."

"I know." I sigh.

"Aside from being handsome and sweet, how else do you feel about him?" He tilts his head and presses the end of his pen to his temple.

Dropping my forehead to my palm, I rub my skin heavily. "I don't know... A lot of the time it doesn't make sense to me. It took me long enough to even realise I was in love with him."

"Because you pushed your emotions into dormancy."

"No bloody shit, Sherlock."

"Are you like this with him?"

"Like what?" I challenge him.

"Combative, difficult..."

"Myself, you mean?"

He smirks. "Yes."

"I suppose. I mean, he's always telling me I do his head in."

His breath shoots sharply through his nose as if he meant to laugh. "If Edward asked you to marry him, would you accept?"

"Of course I bloody would. I'm not letting him get away now."

"Is that what you're worried about? Revealing too much about yourself and losing him?"

"Isn't that what everyone's afraid of?" I put to him.

"That's true."

"I just...I just need him to trust me. I can't have him thinking badly about me. It drives me mental. I hate it!"

"Of course you would. That's understandable."

"It's not only that..." I add in a quiet voice, as my thoughts begin to stray.

"It's not only what?" He leans forward in his chair, his curiosity obviously piqued.

"Sometimes when I look at him, all I see is the worst decision I ever made in my life. I'm really worried that one day it will just be too much for me."

"I'm not sure of your meaning, Bella," he relays his confusion, and I glance up at him just as realisation descends on me.

"Christ, that's right, I never told you..."

"Would you like to tell me now?"

I immediately shake my head. "No."

"Would it help if Edward was with you?"

"Christ—no! Besides...I already told him. He got angry with me."

"Have you discussed it with him since?"

"No."

"Because he'll get angry with you." It's a statement rather than a question.

"He got angry, and he-he worries too bloody much as it is."

"If it has something to do with him, you really should be more open with him."

"It has nothing to do with him! It's all me," I burst way too passionately because there's no way in Hades I'm lumping it on him.

"Bella, you have to understand that your reluctance to include him will eventually place a barrier between the two of you."

"Of course it will. He'll eventually notice all those bloody girls who are always drooling over him, and decide I'm too much work. It's inevitable, but right now I'm keeping him with me."

He shakes his head as though I'm some kind of Greek tragedy. "You are only hastening that outcome with your actions."

I scoff. "Considering I'm the only girl he'll let touch him, I think I've got him for a while."

"Is that all you believe that keeps him with you?"

"That and the fact that he's obviously under some kind of love spell."

"Bella..." he sighs as though I'm being ridiculous; which I am. "You're aware of Edward's traumatic childhood. He's obviously drawn to you because he doesn't have to explain or justify himself to you."

"I am only adding to that trauma. I see every-bloody-day what I'm doing to him," I admit, and it upsets me more than I can conceive to say it out loud.

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"I don't know what other way there is!" I exclaim, my voice breaking, and turning hastily away from him, I clear my throat.

"You need therapy with him, or that outcome you're convinced of will be an inevitability. In which case, you and I both know you will not survive it."

So, that's how I get here.

Break up with Edward or wait for him to break up with me, that's what finally convinces me because Dr Jenks is right. I barely survived my family's death, but I know for an absolute certainty that I will not survive if I lose Edward. He has done something to me that I never thought possible. He brought me back to life, and I absolutely cannot risk losing him, despite knowing deep down that's where our fate lies.

Unless I do something about it.

Edward's waiting for me after my appointment like he does every Thursday. The moment I shove through the double doors of the clinic onto the street, there he is, that sunny smile of his broad across his handsome face. I return it subconsciously, and as he approaches me I stretch myself up on my toes and wrap my arms around him.

"Hey, handsome," I greet him, running my lips and nose down the side of his neck, inhaling in that ridiculously seductive smell of him.

"Hey, baby," he replies, his voice soft and as troubled as it's been most days since I got out of the hospital.

Pulling back I kiss him, repeatedly, and like he usually does, he breaks away first.

"How was everything?" he asks, clearing his throat subtly as his face flushes.

"Same old, same old," I reply casually, wiping his mouth free of my lipstick. "Where do you want to eat?"

"What are you in the mood for?" he turns it back to me because he's such a bloody gentleman.

"Maccas?" I glance at him and raise my brows.

A slight smirk pulls on his lips. "Sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay, then." Grabbing my hand he leads me toward Pitt Street.

I chose McDonald's for one reason and one reason only. It will be packed and noisy. No one will hear our conversation and they probably won't give a shit if they do. The bloody expensive restaurants Edward likes to take me to every Thursday shits me to no end. Stuffy, posh, and full of pretentious arseholes. Pretentious arseholes who often recognise the both of us. At least they recognise who our parents were, while not so subtly listening in on our conversation. I'm not sure why he insists on taking me to places that are so incongruous to who we both are, and often times handsome looks even more uncomfortable than I am. Old habits die hard, I guess.

Of course, I could wait and tell him at home, but talking is usually the last thing on my mind when he puts on his pyjamas; when he wears them anyway. He usually sleeps in nothing but his Bonds knickers, hence why we don't talk very often. But that's usually attached by motive on my part.

Christ, what am I doing to him?

"So..." I begin reluctantly, pulling a French fry from the little paper bag and munching on it thoughtfully, "I've been shutting myself off from you again."

He pauses mid-bite into his Big Mac, his intense gaze locked to mine seriously. He doesn't say anything and it's obvious he's waiting for me to continue.

"I know," I sigh, answering the questions his eyes so clearly put to me. "I don't mean to, Edward. I really don't."

"I know you don't." His voice is soft and seeped with understanding because that's the bloody thing. He's too understanding. I could walk all over him if I wanted to, but I'd never take advantage of him, and I hate the thought of even considering it.

"I just...I don't want you thinking..." Releasing an exasperated breath, I abandon it.

"Tell me, Bella. Please." There's a pleading in his tone and a slight desperation, and I feel like a right bitch.

"I don't want you thinking I'm a suicidal bloody mental case if I tell you more!" I say a little too sharply, drawing the attention of a group of schoolgirls beside us. They giggle idiotically, and I immediately shut them up with a quick sarcastic smile in their direction. When I turn back to Edward, his head is bent into his splayed hand, his fingers pushing into the front of his hair.

He glances up at me, looking weary all of a sudden. "Baby, how many times do I have to tell you—?"

"A thousand times, but I'm still not going to believe you," I cut in before he can finish.

He sighs again like I'm exhausting him. He should be exhausted. I tend to have that effect on people, and handsome's been with me longer than all of them. "What can I do to convince you?"

His eyes...Christ, I often wonder how they can carry so much pain, intensity, and intimidation all at once.

"Bella..." He pulls my attention back from my drifting thoughts.

"I'm going to let you come," I relent in a small voice because if I don't get it out of the way I never will.

"Come...?" he echoes me in confusion.

"To see Dr Jenks with me," I answer, my voice laced with more impatience than I'd intended, but it's not directed toward him.

He swallows thickly while his expression is dubious. "Are you sure?"

"No," I scoff bitterly, "but it's not going to end well for us if I don't do something, and I'm not losing you, as well."

His expression turns tender, and those eyes of his begin to multiply with it. "You'll never lose me," he promises me, and I wish I could believe him.

"Why not? I've lost everyone else?" I admit, my voice wavering as I come dangerously close to tears.

He immediately reaches out and grabs both my hands. "I'm not everyone else." He's adamant, and christ, I'm about to lose it in the middle of McDonald's in front of two dozen Japanese tourists and a group of girls mind-fucking my boyfriend two feet from me.

"Can we go?" I plead with him, and he's on his feet in an instant, pulling me against the warmth of his chest before he leads me back out onto the street.

"You want to go home?" he murmurs against my hair and pressing his lips to the side of my forehead.

I nod, clinging to him for a moment, before releasing myself fully. "Okay." I inhale back my tears.

He doesn't say much on the way home. It's as if he's too afraid anything more will shatter whatever spell that's made me so compliant, but there's a definite relief about him. It's the way he relaxes his shoulders, in his long fingers as they wrap around the steering wheel casually, and the lazy smile that pulls subconsciously across his face as he drives.

I wonder again what kind of sorcery was in Cupid's bow that's made him so attached to me. I've got to be the worst girlfriend imaginable, but he's remained rock solid.

We have a shower together, and I leave my heels on because I need some serious decompression, and he's so relaxed against me he's almost fluid. This is despite the fact that his body is a ramrod of locked, iron-hard muscles that repeatedly push into me until I'm positive my shoulder blades are going to indent the tiles.

"You have to promise me something, handsome," I say afterwards, my hands tangled in his wet hair, one leg hitched around his hips, and my head spinning as the last appendages of arousal slowly drain from my body.

His head is slumped forward, his face pressed against the curve of my neck as he gasps for breath, and each heavy beat of his heart boomerangs through me. "Anything..." he utters breathlessly against my flesh as he struggles to come fully down.

"Whatever comes out, you cannot lose faith in me." I'm serious because it's my one and only condition.

He raises his head, his eyes locking with mine, and while they're flooded with the echo of his recent climax, there's also something tormented about them. "I promise."

He sounds so bloody sincere, but I just can't bring myself to believe him just yet. Actions speak louder than words, and all that. I guess I have no other choice but to wait and see how he reacts to me because it's all going to come out. All of it. My past takes second place to Edward. It's inevitable, and I've held it off for long enough.

I call Dr Jenks' receptionist in the morning and wrangle an emergency appointment. I can't wait until Monday, I'll bloody explode. After speaking with him, she books me and Edward in for five thirty. I'm a wreck and Edward looks so apprehensive I almost laugh; if I was capable of it.

Dr Jenks looks pleasantly relieved to see Edward with me, and when he calls us into his room it's accompanied by a broad smile.

He shakes Edward's hand and lays an empathetic palm to my shoulder before we both sit opposite him in the Chesterfield chairs that are just as stiff and uncomfortable as they look. The doc sits across from us, a pen and note pad in his hand. His gaze rests on me first, and it's seeped with warmth as if he were proud of me.

"You've made the right decision, Bella," he notes, nodding his head once, and I sigh deeply.

"You see? I do listen to you," I reply, ironically.

His lips twitch into a quick smile before it fades behind his usual sedate expression. "Where would you like to start?"

"Is there any one place?" I ask dryly.

He tilts his head to the side in acknowledgement. "Would you like to talk about what we finished with yesterday?"

I shrug a shoulder jerkily. "Edward already knows about it," I remind him.

"What do I know about?" Edward enquires in a cautious voice.

"Strip poker," I turn my head to explain, just as his forehead knots in response.

"Yeah, I know about it," he says quietly.

"Bella's mentioned it's quite significant to her, so I believe it needs exploring," Dr Jenks adds.

"It's up to Bella," is Edward's reply, and he already sounds uneasy.

"Bella..." the doctor prompts me.

I shake my head, because I'm already frustrated. "There's really no point to it."

"Considering your reaction to it, I'd say there is," he counters.

"I just...I got Edward wrong, and I never get _anyone_ wrong! And not just wrong, I got him completely backwards!"

"Baby, everyone got me wrong," Edward attempts to placate me, but it doesn't make me feel any better.

"Can you explain it more to me, Bella?" Dr Jenks ventures.

"I knew him in high school," I blurt out in confession. "He asked me out the day my family... I lied to him because I thought he was a bloody playboy who only wanted to get into my knickers."

"Edward asked you out for the evening of the accident?" he clarifies.

I nod. "I lied and told him I had to go to Charlie's swimming finals."

"Bella..." Edward's soft, angst-ridden voice breaks in. "You couldn't have known."

I shake my head completely dismissing him. "I got you so wrong!" I reiterate. "It was as if the bloody universe was setting it all up and I was the one who hit the launch button, and when I look at you sometimes that's all I see!"

He only stares at me, his expression becoming so tormented I immediately begin to regret this whole thing.

"How would you going to your brother's swimming finals cause the accident, Bella?" Dr Jenks asks, pulling my focus from Edward.

I explain to him what happened at McDonald's, how I'd left my purse behind, forcing my father to go back to get it, and immediately he understands.

"Bella," he begins, his voice calm but with an edge of concern, "do you honestly believe that one decision you made sealed your family's fate?"

"Of course I do!" I declare because I always have.

"It's your fault, not the fault of the truck driver who was speeding?" he puts to me, his sceptical tone reinforcing how irrational he thinks I'm being, but it bounces straight off me.

"If I'd just gone out with Edward when he asked it would have never happened!" I exclaim, the tears inevitably building in my throat causing my voice to catch. And I wonder again why I ever thought this would be a good idea. A good idea with Edward right beside me.

He grabs my hand, and when my eyes meet his he shakes his head. I think he means to reassure me, but all I can see is that same pain that's always been so inherent in him.

"Bella, have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?" Dr Jenks asks. I turn back to him fighting to hold off the tsunami of emotion I can feel converging on me.

"It flaps its wings in Mexico and creates a hurricane in China," I answer, my voice wavering.

"That's correct. There are six billion people in this world in a universe that is _infinite_. You are one person. It is preposterous to blame yourself for what happened."

"If I didn't go, it wouldn't have happened. And Sammy—Sammy only came because he heard I was going!" The tears inevitably overflow and stream down my face, and I'm powerless to stop them.

"Bella, I-I was meant to go," Edward speaks up, the pain now reflecting in his voice.

I turn to him, unsure of his meaning.

"Me and Emmett," he elaborates. "We both made the finals but we were graduating, it was our birthday, and we were no longer committed. What if we went?"

I shake my head, completely lost.

"That's correct, Bella," Dr Jenks adds, obviously discerning his meaning. "Had Edward and his brother attended, the two boys who took their place wouldn't have and an entirely different chain of events would have been set in motion. So is it Edward's fault your family was killed?"

"Of course it's not!" I snap, impatient with his ridiculous assertions. "I'm the common denominator, not Edward!"

"Were there false starts?" Edward continues, drawing my focus back to him.

"What?" I say blankly, wiping clumsily at my eyes. "I...I don't know."

"There always is," he insists, and the vein down the centre of his forehead is bulging. I have the sudden compulsion to smooth it out.

"False starts add more time," The doctor expands on Edward's meaning, and it's becoming frustrating that he understands him when I don't. "If any one of those boys didn't false start you would have left earlier."

Christ, I'm beginning to get it, but I can't buy into it, because it was such a huge decision I made by going and then making my father turn back; placing him on the road at that exact moment.

"Bella, if it's your fault, then it's the fault of every single person on the planet," Dr Jenks explains to me, his voice softening. "If you insist it's your fault for going, then its Edward and his brother's fault for not going. That's how illogical your reasoning is."

"It isn't!" I burst stubbornly because I understand now what they're doing and I refuse to entertain it. "I knew that night in my car I got it wrong about you, Edward," I admit turning back to him.

"It doesn't matter, baby," he says, shaking his head, and his voice is too tender; too afflicted.

"It does matter!" I raise my voice, watching as he subtly cringes. "I-I agreed to go out with you for one reason. I needed validation that you really were that arsehole I thought you were. I invited you into my house that night to deliberately tempt you...all because I needed to ease my own conscience. But you weren't, you were so...b-broken. How could I get it so wrong about you?" I'm beginning to ramble; the words spilling from my lips as effortlessly as the tears that follow them.

"Bella..." Edward appeals to me, his brow furrowing heavily before he cups his palm to the side of my face. "I got it wrong about you, too. If I'd had the guts to let you know me you would have agreed to go out with me. I was in love with you since that day I saw you in the office. I wasted three years because I was a fucking pussy! Dr Jenks is right. If I did one thing differently, you wouldn't have believed those rumours about me. You would have come out with me."

I pause, bracing myself almost instinctively against the heartbreak that I've opened my heart to. It's so relentless it steals my breath, reminding why I spent the last decade doing everything I could to hold it back. To deny it. "I-I'm all alone," I sob, breaking off as my chest shudders violently. "You're all I have."

"You're all I have," his voice breaks along with mine. "If you're going to blame yourself for what happened, then I'm taking half of it."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you Kimmie45 and Starry8 for editing and pre-reading. You girls are tops!**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: I'd like to thank the academy...Oof. No, just everyone who reads and reviews. And Kim and Melinda too, of course.  
I'm slightly high on pseudoephadrine atm. Bloody hayfever.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 36**

 **Edward.**

Bella...she's breaking my bloody heart. I thought I could bear her pain, but I can't. It's tearing me apart and we're only at the beginning.

Despite how much of a disaster our first appointment appeared, Dr Jenks convinced me that she made good progress. It didn't feel like it. I took her home and she cried all night in my arms. She cried so much her asthma turned to shit and I started to freak out she'd end up sick again. She kept apologising, repeatedly, and I knew it wasn't to me. I got the impression it was to her little brother, and it fucked with me so much I ended up in tears along with her. I fought hard to keep them from her, though. I have to be strong for her now more than anything.

And I have to trust her. Trust that she'll get through this.

The weekend was a right-off. She was numb the entire time, she almost appeared in shock, but by Sunday night she started to smile again, and call me "handsome". And tell me I was _adorable_ , but we didn't have sex once. Which isn't like her. When she's stressed sex is all she wants. I have to take it as a good sign, because I know she uses sex as therapy, and the screwed up part is most of the time I'm happy to go along with it.

Our next appointment together is Wednesday, but Monday morning Dr Jenks contacts me to come in and see him in the afternoon.

"Take a seat," he offers after calling me to his office before sitting in the chair opposite me.

"What's going on?" I ask, not sure whether I should be uneasy about it, or not.

"Bella's given me permission to speak to you about her. I think she feels more confident I'll be able to explain her better without alarming you too much."

"Oh..." I say releasing my breath in relief. "Okay."

"How's she going?" he enquires, picking up his pen and notebook. Bella's file sits on the table between us. It's bloody thick.

"She's...getting there, I guess. Friday night was pretty shit, but by Sunday she started to come around."

He nods, a small smile inching on his lips. "That's good. Has she broken down like that in front of you before?"

"A few times, yeah," I reply and his eyes immediately widen in surprise.

"She has?"

"Yeah... _Why_...?"

"She's never let go with me before. She gets close to tears, but she always reins herself in. Friday was the first time I have ever seen her show any real emotion."

I immediately pause to contemplate it. If Bella can cry in front of me it has to mean something. It has to mean I make her feel comfortable, secure...

"I saw how anxious you were on Friday, Edward. I can understand why it would upset you, but you have to allow her to let it out. She's repressed her emotions for so long, and no matter how upsetting it is to witness, crying is the best thing for her."

"How long is it going to take?" I put to him, because I'm not sure how much I can withstand.

"A while," is all he gives away.

"Is she ever going to stop blaming herself?" That's all I want, right now.

"She will eventually. Survivor's guilt can be extremely hard to work through, but she understands rationally. Unfortunately, she didn't get the help she needed immediately after, so it may take a bit longer. I think she made real progress Friday."

"I know about her grandmother," I fill him in.

"She told me. She thinks that's what caused you to lose faith in her."

I huff in frustration. "I _haven't_ lost faith in her," I insist.

"I'm aware of that, but Bella's mind works very differently."

"Tell me about it..." I mutter, scoffing to myself, because don't I bloody know it.

He pauses for a moment, appearing to scrutinise me before he adds, "I called you in here today, Edward, because I want to prepare you."

"...For what...?" I ask immediately wary, and christ, what the hell now?

"Bella never mourned the loss of her family. She went through the trauma of losing them, but she never allowed herself to mourn them. I'm going to work through that with her on Wednesday."

"Jesus..." I murmur, dragging my fingers through my hair. "How the hell could she not mourn them?"

"She was so young and it was such a huge, frightening reality for her to face alone, so she closed herself off. Being with her grandmother her instincts to survive overrode all else, and it was a diversion that helped her get past it. When she got her memories back it again forced her to face the prospect of mourning her family. Unfortunately, with no one to help her through it, she went to a very dark place, and...well...you know what happened."

"Yeah..." I say quietly, I know what happened all right. "Wait...how come you've never..." I don't finish, my mind's already beginning to race ahead, because I think I understand why.

"She was too fragile," he explains the question I abandoned, and it's good to know he gets where I'm coming from. "I couldn't risk taking her to a place that's so emotionally damaging while she was alone. Until she met you she had closed herself off to everyone. If she went through it I couldn't be certain she wouldn't attempt to take her life again."

"She closed herself off even to Alice...?" I ask. Bella talks about Alice often, and I got the impression they've always been pretty close.

"Yes," he nods gravely, "to everyone."

"Then...what is it about me...?" I wonder out loud, and in response he all but smiles.

"She put the exact same question to me about you," he explains his reaction.

"Yeah?" I feel the grin twitch at my lips. "What did she say?"

"That you're ' _bloody well gorgeous'_ ," he quotes her with a small smirk.

"Christ..." I mumble, feeling my face flame, "she tells me that all the time."

"She finds it easier to relay things like that than confess her true feelings, but believe me, she will fight to the death to keep you in her life. And she carries a lot of guilt for allowing you to get caught up in her trauma."

I laugh humorously. "Believe me, I know. She seems to swap between two extremes; spilling her guts to me or shutting me completely out. There's never any balance. That's all I want."

He nods once. "Understandable."

I take a heavy breath because I'm already feeling overwhelmed, and I do need to prepare myself. "So I have to let her cry, what else?"

"Keep a close eye on her," he says, and he's suddenly deadly serious. "Make sure you know where she is at all times, and if you feel she's sliding back contact me immediately."

"Jesus Christ, so she could...?" How the hell am I supposed to have faith in her now?

"I'm confident she'll be able to handle it, but it will be rough on her, and I can't be certain she won't react adversely."

"I'm not sure she's ready," I blurt, immediately on edge and flooding with uncertainty. "Friday was too much for her."

"You said she's doing well," he reminds me.

"She is...but..." I shake my head, because let's face it, I'm not ready so how the hell can Bella be? "Is it okay to dump everything on her at once?"

"I've been leading her up to this for close to four years. If I didn't think she was ready I would hold it off."

"Yeah, but then I'll have to pick up the pieces—I'll have to try and put her back together again!" I'm pissed off, and I can't bear the idea of seeing her in so much pain again so soon.

"This is inevitable, Edward" he says steadily, appearing to gauge me closely. "She cannot delay it forever, and it's doing a lot more damage to her while she's repressing it."

"I understand that, but—Jesus!" I snap, reefing my hand back through my hair again. "She was a bloody mess Friday night."

"And she recovered fairly quickly," he throws my own words back at me. "Edward, have you forgotten she opened her heart to you? It's been slowly spilling out for a while now, and there's not much holding it back anymore. If she's not ready she'll fight me and close up, but if she is, she's going to crack and with very little effort. It's not going to be easy for both of you, but she'll never get better while she's hanging onto it."

I sigh, and then again in frustration while my chest clenches at the thought of it. "Do I warn her?"

"Please don't." He appears alarmed. "She will try everything to avoid it, you should realise that by now."

"You're preparing me, but not her?" I accuse him, and he sighs before dropping his head to massage his forehead; his pen between his fingers.

"There's no way I can prepare her that she'll accept. She didn't accidentally forget to mourn them, Edward. It was deliberate on her part, and she's worked hard for ten years to keep it that way."

"So...cruel to be kind, is that it?"

"Basically," he says.

"Christ, all right," I mutter, pulling myself to my feet. "I should go." I'm done. I don't want to hear anymore, and I have no idea how I'll be able to get Bella here on Wednesday.

"Focus on the goal of getting her healthy, Edward. That's all that matters," he says, getting to his feet after me and placing his hand on the back of my shoulder as I make my way to the door.

For two days I'm forced to keep what I know from her, but she's so bloody perceptive she clues onto me immediately.

"Christ, what the hell happened?" she eventually loses it Tuesday night after my attempts to put on a front completely crashed and burned.

"He went through what happened Friday with me, to help me understand it from your perspective better," I lie, hoping she won't immediately see through me. "I just...I hate seeing you so upset."

She pauses, her eyes breaking from mine before she expels a heavy breath. "Yeah, it's shit, but what do you do..."

"You sure you're going to be okay?" I ask, curling my arm around her and pulling her against me.

"I'll be fine," she mumbles into my chest, beginning to sound distracted.

"I love you," I say against her hair just as her breath shoots from her nose.

"You're adorable, handsome."

"You can call me _darling_ if you like," I reply.

"You told me I'm not allowed to," she reminds me, pulling back to gauge me suspiciously.

Half a laugh bursts from me. "Since when do you listen to me?"

She sort of scoffs, her smile turning to a smirk before she yanks on my shirt. "Want to go to bed early?" She raises a suggestive brow and quickly elaborates. "Christ knows I'll probably be a basket case after tomorrow and we're breaking our average."

"All right," I murmur, a grin pulling slowly on my lips. It's been five days and I already miss her.

 **. . .**

"Let's talk about your mother, Bella," the doctor suggests only moments after we're sitting opposite him.

I grab her hand, entwine my fingers with hers, and squeeze. She turns to me and gives me a questioning look, but all I'm capable of in return is a tight smile.

"What about her?" she replies, turning back to him.

"What was she like?"

"She was a neurotic drunk." She immediately frowns as if she regretted speaking those words.

"What do you miss about her?" He tilts his head, his eyes remaining trained on her.

Bella pauses for a moment, her forehead knotting deeper. "I don't know... She was my mother."

"Any regrets?"

She scoffs out her breath shortly. "A bloody million—what do you think?"

He nods in return. "Tell me about one. The one that sits in the back of your thoughts most."

"That I thought she was pathetic and weak!" she answers a little too sharply, and she's not fighting him at all like she would with me.

"Go on," he encourages her.

She shakes her head, appearing suddenly irritated. "You want me to put shit on my dead mother?"

"I want to go deeper into your feelings regarding her."

"I don't know," she says impatiently. "She was miserable—it affected all of us."

"How did it affect you?" he continues to push her, and already I'm on edge and Bella's beginning to look pissed off.

"I told you."

"You thought she was pathetic and weak," he recaps. "That must bother you now."

"Of course it bloody does. You think I would have thought that about her if I knew she was going to die?"

"Regret is one of the biggest hurdles in overcoming loss, Bella. You need to talk about it," he adds fucking calmly, and Jesus, he knows he's upsetting her and he's completely unfazed by it.

"Talk about it..." she echoes sarcastically. "I regret bloody all of it, all right?"

"There has to be one incident in particular." He leans forward in his chair.

Pulling her hand from mine, she rubs at her forehead roughly. "One? Are you for real? This is my family we're talking about. There was more than bloody one!"

"Of course there was, but what was the biggest one."

"I don't know!" she snaps.

"You do, Bella, and you've been running from it for ten years."

"I don't!" she insists.

"You know I know you're lying. You want Edward to have faith in you, you have to be honest with yourself."

"That's was below the bloody belt!" I snap, almost lurching out of the chair.

"Edward," he warns me, holding up his hand, his fucking pen still between his fingers. "Bella," he turns his attention back to her, "it wasn't just that you thought she was pathetic and weak, was it?"

She only shakes her head, glancing hastily around the room as if she were contemplating leaving. I brace myself, ready to get her out of here if she gives me the signal.

" _Was it_ , Bella?" he repeats, his tone turning firm, and in reply Bella jumps in her skin.

"N-No," she stammers, and her face is beginning to pale, her eyes widening in genuine fear.

"Tell me."

"I-I hated her," she whispers. "I blamed her."

"You blamed her for your asthma?" he asks, his tone softening again.

She nods looking distracted while continuing to glance around the room the same way she does when she wakes up with her nightmares.

"Tell me about it. Tell me about it so both Edward and I can help you move past it," he encourages her, and I suddenly want to warn her that's he's leading her into a trap. In fact, I have to physically restrain myself to remain seated in my chair.

"Every time I got sick...they-they fought about it. About-About me," she stammers, before she suddenly jumps out of her seat. To escape or just because she's restless, I'm not sure, but I'm right beside her instantly.

"Edward. Let her finish," he cautions me. "Bella..."

"They blamed each other! They used me to one-up each other, and they didn't care that I heard them—that the-the boys heard them..." She takes a step away from him, and it's obvious her flight instincts are starting to kick in.

I reach out and grab her hand; she's beginning to tremble. "Bella..." I say softly, but I have no more words.

She only shakes her head. "I was always sick—always in h-hospital."

"You resented her, didn't you?" His voice softens again as if in empathy.

"I had no friends!" she suddenly professes. "I was always in the sickbay, I couldn't go to camps, or play sp-sport! Everyone used to avoid me like the plague as if I were bloody contagious!"

"It's natural to be angry about that, Bella, but your parents used it against one another, didn't they?"

"They would scream at each other, my mother was always drunk and she'd-she'd say the worst things—about how I was going to die! She used to scare the boys. She used to scare me!"

"And you used to think some fairly dark thoughts about them," he coaxes her to continue, and he knows exactly what he's doing because Bella's beginning to crack.

She nods, her chest shuddering as tears begin to stream down her face. "I was s-so angry at them—at her!"

"What did you wish upon her, Bella?"

"I wished she was dead!—that they were _both_ dead!" Her voice rises and then breaks and she takes another clumsy step away from him.

"And you can't take it back now," he continues, and I turn and glare at him. It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him to shut the fuck up, but I know what he's doing is exactly what she needs.

She shakes her head again, before she once again pulls her hand from mine and drops her brow into both of them. "No...I can't."

"Bella, every teenager has those kinds of thoughts about their parents at some point; every one of them. The only difference is most don't go through what you did." He gets up out of his chair, and I'm immediately tense. I want to put myself between them, but I don't. I'm trying to keep the fucking faith. Faith that he knows what he's doing, and faith that Bella can handle this.

She breaks down into sobs, her small shoulders quaking with them and it's tearing my damn heart out. "I-I used to pray for them to die so I d-didn't have to feel like my-my very existence was the cause of their problems any-anymore! And I can't take it b-back. I can't s-say sorry. I-I can't see her again and tell her I didn't mean it!"

"It's stopping you from missing her, isn't it?" he adds, and in reply Bella nods her head jerkily.

"But-but I do m-miss her," she stammers, her tears increasing as her chest continues to convulse along with them. "Jesus...I miss her..."

I stretch out my arms to pull her against me, but with one sharp gaze Dr Jenks stops me. He only gives me this silent warning that if I take one step I could fuck it all up.

"You're _allowed_ to miss her, Bella," he tells her. "It's your right alone to miss them without any regrets."

For the next couple of minutes the only sound in the room is Bella's cries. She stands completely broken, her back hunched over, her head buried in her hands. I only stand beside her, fucking helpless, my arms stiff at my sides. A few times the doctor holds up his finger, silently cautioning me again, and I want to hold my breath in fear for what's about to come.

And then it does.

"I-I never e-even got to s-say good-goodbye," she suddenly blurts before she holds her head up, and her entire expression is drowning in pain. She turns to me then, her eyes tortured and pleading. "Ed-Edward..." she whispers, and it's too much for me. I pull her roughly to me and enclose her in my arms.

I hold her to me for the next several minutes. I don't say anything, because there's nothing I can say. I can't tell her it's okay, because it isn't. But she has to be. She _better_ be, or I'll fucking kill this bastard before me.

He only stands roughly six feet from us, his hands shoved into his pants pockets while he appears to appraise her patiently.

And then I feel that moment when she breaks against me. She jerks, a gasp bursting from her, her entire body practically convulsing, and suddenly she's struggling to breathe.

In immediate panic I pull the inhaler from my pocket and shove it in her mouth. But she's not responsive. She only stands slumped against me, her expression almost shocked, her eyes wide and incomprehensible. Then she starts to shake her head, slowly at first until a momentum builds within her.

"N-No—I-I-I don't w-want to do this!" she declares, shoving from my arms and pushing both her hands into her hair. "I know wh-what you're doing!"

"She's not ready," I appeal to him, and christ, her lips are turning blue again.

"She's more than ready," he counters, completely unmoved, his eyes fixed to her.

"They died, Bella. They're not coming back, and you have to say your goodbyes. You have to end this."

"I KNOW THAT!" she yells! "Don't you th-think I know that! Don't tr-treat me l-like an infant!"

"It's time to say goodbye..." he repeats sedately.

She shakes her head again, but it's as if she's attempting to make sense of it. "I-I don't know h-how to," she whispers.

"Stop holding it in," he directs her. "Let it go. Let the pain come. It won't kill you, and you're not alone."

"I'll always be a-alone!" she insists, her voice breaking again.

"You're not alone, baby—you have me!" I tell her.

"For how l-long?" she puts to me. The tears are completely drowning her and she's stopped attempting to wipe them away.

"Forever," I promise her.

She stares at me for a moment, looking suddenly defeated. "There's no such thing..."

"Until my last breath, then. Until we're both old and grey. Marry me, Bella, and I'll never let you go!"

She sort of laughs out of some kind of irony, before her chest shudders again. "That's a pity pro-proposal."

" _Pity_..." I echo her in disbelief. "I'm not allowed to break your rules, remember?"

"But you always br-break them..."

I smile. "Because I'm such a screw up. I need you to pull me into line."

"Don't let her deflect, Edward," Dr Jenks cuts in, pulling my focus from Bella.

"She's had enough," I state.

"She's _almost there_ ," he replies, and he sounds confident as his gaze shifts to her. "Bella, let's end this, so you can marry Edward. So you can start living."

"End _what_?" she fires back.

"Are you prepared to lose him just to hold onto it?" he puts to her, before his gaze immediately fixes to mine again in warning.

Bella turns to me, her eyes narrowing, and in a heartbeat she's gone from pain to anger. And I realise focusing on me and not Dr Jenks might have just set her back. "Tell me he's just playing mind games with me, Edward—tell me!" she demands, wiping away her tears and looking like she wants to murder me.

But I know... I know what I have to do.

I pause, gazing down at her, at how broken she is while still fighting to stay strong. Then with a deep internal sigh, I reluctantly shake my head. "You have to fix yourself, Bella, or we're not going to work," I say in a quiet voice before immediately severing her gaze and staring at the floor.

I can hear the gasp that leaves her throat, and see her stumble away from me out of my periphery, while my heart clenches tightly in my chest.

"Well, _fuck you_ then!" she snaps, sounding madder than hell, then spinning around she makes a move for the door.

I'm immediately on her heels when she suddenly stops. She stands frozen, while both her hands cover her mouth.

"Bella...?" I speak up apprehensively, reaching out to her, and Jesus, the guilt's beginning to shred me.

"I...I think I'm going to be sick," she says weakly, muffled behind her palms, just as I move into action.

There's a set of cabinets to the right of the room with a sink, that's where I lead her, and I get her there without a second to spare.

She throws up repeatedly, wheezing heavily and choking back fresh tears, while her legs all but buckle beneath her. I'm forced to hold her up on her feet.

"I told you she wasn't ready!" I turn and accuse the doctor, but he appears way too calm and it's really beginning to piss me off.

"This is a purge she needs," he insists, and it's a bloody purge all right.

She continues to fight, though, gripping the edges of the counter and shaking her head stubbornly. "I said my goodbyes!" she yells repeatedly as Dr Jenks continues pushing her. He pushes her so much it takes all my test of will not to put an end to it.

"You're lying, Bella," he says, keeping his tone deliberately low-key. "The three of us in this room know it."

"I'm _not_ lying!" she shouts back.

"Then why are you here?"

"Bella, please..." I beg her.

"Not for them—not like this," she insists, letting go of the counter to grip my arms that I leave around her. " _Edward_."

"You're fighting me because you know I'm right."

"Edward..." she appeals to me again.

"Christ, baby. You have to—"

"I'm _not_!" she cuts me off.

"Tell her, Edward," Dr Jenks instructs me.

"... _He's right_ ," I say, squeezing my eyes shut, and it fucking kills me.

She shakes her head, harder this time, more adamantly. "I-I've already done it, Edward! _Please believe me_!" She sinks in my arms, and tightening them I pull her completely upright.

"You _have to_ listen to him," I plead with her; my voice comes dangerously close to breaking and I'm forced to rein myself back.

"Bella," Dr Jenks speaks up before taking a laboured breath. "You're cowering because you fear it, but you have nothing to fear."

"I'm _not_..." she whimpers.

"You're _not_ going to fall, baby," I promise her, because that's what she fears. She told me that herself. "I've got you."

"It's time to let it go, Bella," the doctor reiterates, and I have no idea how he can remain so restrained. He's completely undeterred by her resistance, by her pain.

"Edward, _please_..." she sobs, completely breaking down again, but I hold strong. She's beginning to fade. I can feel it; I can feel it overrunning her. With every breath she takes she weakens as she stands against me.

And then it completely consumes her.

* * *

 **A/N: Christ, that was heavy. Bella's going to get a lot better after this. Promise. Then something interesting is going to happen...**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: Much love the Kimmie45 and StarryEyedWriter8, and everyone who reads.  
**

 *****ETA, I uploaded the unedited version yesterday and sent my beta into anxiety. Oof, but all fixed now. Seriously, woman, you're more more of an anal mofo than I am, and I thought I was bad!**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 37**

 **Bella.**

The anniversary of my family's death passed in a fog of grief, so did handsome's birthday. He's twenty-nine now; it's hard to believe sometimes, but he is.

I've given up on regrets. The regret of taking Edward to the shrink with me, or allowing him to witness me yet again break into a million pieces. Acceptance is so much easier anyway; as easy as falling. At least, that's how it was in the beginning, then it quickly became hard.

 _Hard._

Christ, I _wish_ it was bloody hard, but it was so much worse. It was gut-wrenching. It was a pain so consuming I understand now why I recoiled from it. Why I ran from it.

In the end, it was as useless as running from my own shadow.

I had to stop running eventually; it was inevitable. I stopped running for Edward, and the rest just followed. Fate, it appears, has never been my friend.

I sleep a lot in the days following. It's a good escape; your body's natural defence mechanism. I was certain I wouldn't survive the dreadful ache that had anchored itself in my heart. Tears made it a little easier to bear, but the ache was always there. It made its presence known the moment I opened my eyes in the morning, and was the last thing I felt before I closed them at night. It hung over me heavily, oppressively, like a constant storm cloud obscuring the sun.

They say time heals all wounds, and I wouldn't say that's exactly true; it just makes it easier to bear. Time also makes you stronger, hardier, and more resilient.

Every day, taking one at a time and too painfully bloody slowly, the storm clouds broke apart and the ache began to fade away. It never really went fully away, I just learned to catalogue it in the deepest corner of my heart where it will no longer have control over me. I'll let it out for anniversaries, birthdays and such. I'm not sure I'll have a choice, but I needed to store it away out of sheer necessity.

Life goes on, and your deepest instincts will always push you to follow where they lead. So, I followed, reluctantly at first, and I soon caught sight of handsome again, then I found myself wanting to follow; wanting to follow him.

Next came my birthday. Twenty-seven. Christ, I'm getting old. Edward bought me a gold locket in the shape of a love heart. Inside was a little photo of the boys on one side and my mother on the other. I cried too bloody much and told him if he ever thought about leaving me I'd kill him. He promised me again in that deep, rich, rustic voice of his that he's sticking around. I'm starting to believe him.

Soon it was Christmas, and I visited their graves. I haven't done that...ever. I laid flowers, stared at their names etched in stone, allowed self-pity to consume me for a moment, and then I shed tears. I did all the things I was meant to do, but I hated every second of it, and I couldn't wait to leave. If I allowed my thoughts to dwell on the fact that they're all lying dead and decomposing beneath the ground, I'd bloody well puke.

Christ, I've done enough of that this year.

Finally, it was New Year's. We had a quiet one this time; just me, handsome and Oppa. I got pretty tipsy and managed to get Mr Intense Eyes in the sack twice, then we watched the fireworks from the back balcony. Edward whispered in my ear that he loves me, and I opened my mouth to tell him he was adorable but he beat me to it. He knows me too bloody well now.

"I'll be better this year—no more trauma," I promised him, turning my head to place my lips to his throat and taking in the smell of him. He was behind me; my back was resting against his chest, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, and it surprised me again how safe he made me feel.

"I'll love you no matter what," he replied, bending down to whisper in my ear, and before I even realised it I was crying.

I really do have the world's most amazing boyfriend, and I'm not sure what I did to deserve him.

Maybe fate's my friend, after all.

2018 was the worst and best year of my life, but I'm happy to see it end. I even feel a sense of anticipation for what's to come. I've never felt that way before. The New Year has always been welcomed in with a sense of dread. Not this year though, because the Isabella Swan melodrama is finally over.

Thank bloody Christ.

 **. . .**

We've both got January off. Edward's on the school break and my boss gave me a whole dose of pity leave. I can only imagine Edward filled him in, but I found I wasn't so averse to it this time. Being at home with handsome all day is a pretty decent consolation to being stone broke. He only shaves once a week when he's on holidays, and Christ... If I hadn't witnessed it for myself dozens of times already I wouldn't believe it was possible for him to get even better looking.

"Let's go away somewhere..." he murmurs against my brow on a lazy Sunday a week after New Year's. We're in bed of course; we still have a lot of catching up to do.

"Where to?" I ask stretching sleepily and turning to press my face against the soft downy hair of his semi damp chest. Aramis cologne, musky wood, and sex. That's how he always smells. It's one constant aphrodisiac after another.

"Thailand?" he proposes, and I groan my opposition against him.

I still haven't forgotten the vile case of food poisoning I got there one faux happy family vacation.

He takes a breath and hums it in contemplation. "Bora Bora?"

"We live on the Pacific, handsome. Why spend money to see the same ocean I stare at every morning?"

"Where do you want to go?" He turns his head to me again, his five day old stubble dragging lusciously across my face.

"Somewhere cold. I haven't seen the snow since I was 14." January is when Sydney pulls out all stops to kill you. If it's not spiders and sharks, it's the bloody heat. Edward's already killed two Funnel Webs that decided to cross our back yard in search of a mate. I refuse to venture outside without gumboots during summer. Evil country.

"The last time I saw snow I was dying in the mountains," he says lightly, muffling his laughter gently through his nose.

"And I was dying in bloody RPA," I reply.

"Bella, Jesus..." I've upset him.

I huff shortly. "If I don't bloody laugh about it, I'll cry."

"It's not funny," he says lowly. "When I found you I thought you were dead."

"I know, you thought I tried to do myself in."

He releases a heavy breath and groans. "You're doing my bloody head in," he mutters.

"New York," I decide to sway him off the subject. I prefer him relaxed over broody any day, despite how nice the visual often tends to be.

"Too busy," he counters. "Italy."

"Egypt."

"Too...unstable," he says.

"Like us."

He sighs again like I'm completely exasperating him. I suspect I am. "Uluru."

I prop myself up on his chest. "You know how hot it'll be? Are you a masochist?"

I'm going out with you, aren't I?" he teases me, tipping my chin.

I pout. "That's not very nice."

Chuckling, he hooks his elbow around my neck and pulls me back down, pressing his burning lips to my temple. "Would you bloody decide already?"

"Hmm..." I contemplate it. "France."

"There's all kinds of riots going on over there at the moment," he fills me in, propping his hand behind his head.

"Christ! Well, I don't know then."

"New Zealand."

I tilt my head and consider it for a moment. I've never been. "Sure."

We leave ten days later.

Christ, New Zealand is beautiful. It's cool with snow peaked mountains everywhere you look, and bluer than blue ocean. We start out on the south island in Queenstown at Lake Wakatipu. I bungee jump off the Kawarau George Suspension Bridge with the Southern Alps behind us, while Edward watches looking like he's on the verge of an aneurysm. There's no way I can talk him around; he flat out refuses, but what a rush! I go again, and am prepared to go a third time when handsome drags me away.

We kayak on Lake Manapouri, go hiking in the Fiordland and Abel Tasman National Parks, and go whale watching at Kaikoura. Edward gets seasick; though, the sea is pretty rough. At night we stay in five star hotels because handsome has the privilege of never having to concern himself with money, so he doesn't. He never looks at price tags, and often times he'll whip out his platinum card while I'm clutching at my chest in shock. I might have been born into the one percent, but I've spent the last decade of my life far removed from it.

It's not as if Edward lives like he's close to being a bloody billionaire, though, and you can't exactly tell by looking at him. He's a school teacher—which still seems beyond all realms of bizarre—he doesn't wear designer labels, he gets his hair cut by barbers, and well, he lives with me in my small, detached, one bedroom, heritage listed—code for old—house. Though that Franck Muller watch of his has to have been well into the five—possibly six—digit price range. It was a graduation present from his grandfather he told me in the early days when I used to tease him about it.

Our next stop is the Aoraki National Park near Christchurch. The glaciers are amazing and the air so clean I barely need my inhaler. Christchurch itself is beautiful and we wander around the city for a couple of days before onto our next destination; Wellington on the North Island and then Rotorua. In the Whakarewarewa Geothermal Valley, we get a traditional Maori welcoming ceremony. A Maori woman pulls Edward up to dance and the poor man is in agony. He tries his best, but he's as tense as a Hitchcock movie and after it takes a lot to calm him down.

We do a lot of _calming down_ , in fact. Our best calming down yet. You wouldn't even guess handsome has a pretty awful aversion to female beguilement anymore. He gets pretty adventurous with me, and rough. I like it when he's rough. Okay, _rough_ might mean something a little different in Edward's vocabulary, but I'm not about to complain after what I've put him through.

Our last stop before heading home is the Bay of Islands.

Edward booked us in at the Eagles Nest hotel retreat, and after we arrive I stand in the foyer that overlooks the bay with my jaw hovering somewhere near my knees. It goes beyond five stars; it's bloody ridiculous, but considering Edward rarely appears to spend his money and this is our first holiday together, I give him a pass. Still, he really is overdoing it.

"Christ, handsome, how'd you even manage a booking?" I ask him after he picks up the keys to our private villa and we're heading back to the hire car.

He smiles to himself and bends down to reply, "My last name has a lot of sway in some places."

I only roll my eyes as he curves his arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his side.

We drive a couple of minutes down the road to the villa that sits on a ridgeline amidst the natural surroundings. There's a garage to the side, and after parking and grabbing our bags, Edward leads me toward the entrance. "Pop used to come here. A lot. And he was _very_ generous," he elaborates after unlocking the front door and pushing it open for me to enter first.

"Have you been here before?" I ask, glancing around. It's opulent, but super modern. Contemporary; a lot like Edward's house.

"Once, when I was a kid," he answers coming in beside me and plodding our bags to the timber floor.

" _Eagles Nest, somewhere between seven stars and heaven_ ," I pick up the small business card on the hall stand and read it out loud, before flashing Edward a wry smirk. "Oh, look, it has a helipad, darling."

Christ, it really does.

Edward grins broadly as if he's fighting the urge to laugh. "Stop it."

The villa has three bedrooms, a kitchen, laundry, and a dining and living room that opens out onto the deck; separated by a wall of glass doors. Off the deck is a horizon-edged pool and spa, but the view...

"Wanna go for a swim?" Edward draws close behind me and murmurs in my ear. "It's heated."

"Hm..." I relax back against him for a moment before angling my head to plant my lips below his jaw. "Cozie-free?"

His laughter pushes softly through his nose and he drops his head and kisses my bared shoulder. "Okay."

"How you doing?" he asks me too apprehensively after we manage a clumsy quickie in the spa. The shower notwithstanding, sex in water really isn't as pleasurable as you imagine. It's awkward, you end up chafed and with it in your eyes.

We transferred to the pool after, for obvious reasons, and while I hang over the edge and gaze out over the bay, Edward comes behind me and wraps his arms around my shoulders.

"I'm doing fine," I say softly, tilting my head to the side to accommodate him as he nuzzles the side of my neck. I'm doing what my shrink ordered; I'm keeping the line of communication open with him. It's not that I even have to remind myself anymore. I had no idea how emancipating grief can really be; once you get over the initial hell, that is. Edward knows everything about me now. Everything, and he stayed right beside me.

"Want to go for a walk later?" he mumbles against my skin, his heated lips warming my flesh against the cool New Zealand air.

"Sure," I reply, closing my eyes.

Christ, you can actually order an Eagles Nest personal chef to come to your villa and cook you a five star meal. Which Edward does, and as the sun sets over the bay, we sit down to eat _venison_ with a glass of red wine from the estate's vineyard.

After dinner we have a shower and make up for the disastrous spa venture—another bloody pair of heels ruined—and get dressed to go for a stroll. New Zealand summer temperatures are roughly the same as Sydney's winters, so I put on jeans and a cardigan and allow Edward to pull me along. He's gone all tense, his hand wrapped around mine clammy, and I start wondering...

A planked timber path leads from the villa up the hilltop through the foliage to a clearing and lookout. We walk along it slowly, taking in the view while the crisp, clean air washes over us. I haven't breathed better in my entire life, and I almost consider asking Edward to move us here.

"What's going on, handsome?" I finally put to him when he releases my hand to lean over the cliff-edge fencing. It's making me a little anxious actually, and grabbing his hand I pull him away. "Come back from there before you give me a heart attack."

He turns to me, and that little boy he's so good at being is suddenly staring back at me. "I can't ask you to kiss me first anymore, baby..."

"Huh...?" I say blankly. "What...?" And before I can speak another syllable he suddenly drops down to one knee. "Christ..." I whisper, in complete shock, I think. I thought I was prepared for this, but obviously I'm not.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a little black box, and then fumbling to open it, he holds it out to me; revealing a diamond that has to be at least four bloody carats. It's round cut and sits atop a white gold band. It's classic, but beautiful. Too much like the man holding it out to me.

"Will you marry me, Bella?" he asks in a hitched voice that's so incredibly sweet and unsure of himself that before I'm aware of it tears are spilling over and down my cheeks.

"Oh my god, Edward!" I burst, nodding my head before I can get that one word out. "Yes."

He's on his feet in an instant, and wrapping his arms around my waist he hoists me off the ground to kiss me. We kiss and giggle together like school girls for several moments, before as if he suddenly realises, Edward pulls the ring from the box and slides it over my third finger. It fits perfectly, and looking up from admiring it, I gaze at him suspiciously. "How did you..."

"Alice," he admits, grinning to himself before I can finish. "She stole this one"—he runs his finger over the signet ring I've worn on my right hand since I was eight—"and had it sized."

"When?"

"A couple of days before Christmas."

"That shrew! She completely poker-faced me." I half laugh to myself. Alice and Jazz dropped in for Christmas dinner and Alice didn't give a thing away.

"She promised me she wouldn't," he says with a deep sigh. Then moving me in front of him, he pulls me against him and wraps his arms around my shoulders. "You're never going to be alone again, baby," he bends down and whispers against my ear.

"Christ, Edward," I utter, becoming immediately choked again. "You're so bloody adorable—what the hell am I supposed to do with you?"

"You're supposed to marry me and let me spoil you rotten."

Reaching up I grab his arms and turn my head to face him. "And buy me babies?" I remind him, inhaling back my tears.

He breaks into a laugh and nods. "And buy you babies."

"Or...you can buy me a uterus..."

"What...?" he asks confused, tilting his head to meet my gaze.

"We can have a baby together, we just need someone to grow them."

"Ah..." A small smile tugs on his lips. "Okay, I'll buy you a uterus. I like that idea better."

"I do, too," I reply, releasing a momentous breath. "Christ what a year we've had..."

"What a year..." he echoes me, his tone dropping a fraction and turning serious. "By the way, _Jazz_ "—he deliberately mock's my brother's stage name—"offered to give you away."

"Hmm...got it all worked out, haven't you," I say, turning to plant my lips just below his ear. "No throwing me a grotesquely expensive wedding, either. We want to avoid the social pages, remember?" He opens his mouth to respond when I quickly add, "Christ, can you imagine it? They'll have me painted as some kind of Cinderella story, and you'll be completely outed."

He laughs, his tone gentle, and he's suddenly more relaxed than I ever think I've seen him. "I'll leave all that up to you. When do you want to have it?"

"Spring," I reply. "I like spring. Spring is when a ridiculously gorgeous guy from my past suddenly walked back into my life."

"Bella..." he complains with a feigned groan. "You have to stop that. I can never live up to your expectations of me."

"Expectations?" I glance up at him, arching a dubious brow. "You are so dense sometimes, handsome."

I cool wind sweeps over us, and I shiver. Edward pulls me further against him. He's quiet for a moment, and it's obvious his thoughts are straying.

"What?" I ask him, my gaze steeled to the lights from all the boats drifting on the bay.

"I need you to do something for me, baby." His voice is almost serious, and when I turn to glance at him, a troubled expression is etching into his brow.

"Anything for my future husband." I grab his chin, and a small smile immediately tugs on his lips.

"Can you talk to Ness for me? For Jake, I mean..." His eyes meet mine.

"Sure, but christ, what happened?"

"Shit hit the fan is what happened." He sounds suddenly frustrated and there's a bitter edge to his tone.

"Okay... You going to tell me?"

He releases an arm from around me to rub at his forehead. "Jake told his parents he wants to marry her. His father immediately said ' _no'_ and told him if he didn't end it with her he'll be thrown out of the company and disinherited."

"Christ..." I whisper. "What an arsehole! Ness is lovely!"

"Yeah," Edward mumbles. "Anyway, Jake threw a fit and told his old man to 'fuck his company and fuck his money' and then he threatened to go to the papers and tell them what elitist, snob bastards they are. In retaliation his old man threatened to ruin Ness's life." I gasp, and Edward quickly continues, "Jake knocked him out. Stone cold, and his old man had him arrested."

" _What_?" I utter in complete shock.

"Yeah, he pressed charges. I bailed him out..."

"Christ, Edward... So what happened with Ness?—she got spooked?"

"She got spooked, all right," he mutters. "She freaked out that Jake chose her over his family and money. She's convinced he'll eventually resent her, so she ended it."

"Oh my god..." I sigh. "Don't worry, I'll speak to her."

"Thanks, baby." He releases a heavy breath. "Jake's in a bad way. I'm paying for his lawyer. It's your boss."

"Marcus?" I put to him, quickly glancing back at him.

"Yeah." He almost smirks.

" _Good_. He's a man-eater, and he loves taking on big wigs like Jake's old man."

"That's why I hired him." He tightens his arms around me and drops his chin to the top of my head, humming softly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I break the momentary silence.

"You were dealing with too much," he murmurs in reply.

"I would have welcomed the distraction."

"I didn't want you distracted. You needed to see it to the end."

I huff. "I really need to get a new shrink. The two of you are conspiring against me," I say wryly.

I suspect he smiles to himself as his breath shoots from his nose like it often does; in silent amusement at my expense.

"I've decided to sell the house," Edward informs me as we make our way back to the villa. "I'm going to give half to Jake. I'd give him all of it, but he'd never accept it."

"You are such a sweetheart," I say, snuggling against his side.

"Jake never wanted to be in business, anyway. You know what he wants to be?"

"What?"

"A mechanic." He laughs beneath his breath.

"I think this unorthodox lifestyle you lead is infecting everyone, handsome," I tease him.

"That's a good thing, right? He suddenly sounds uncertain.

"Of course it is. You're the only poor, rich guy on the North Shore who wants to marry someone even poorer."

* * *

 ***Cozie/cozies - swimming costumes.**

* * *

 **A/N: thanks for reading :)**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: Happy Easter/Passover/Goddess of Fertility day. Whichever you celebrate. *smooch*  
Thank you to Kimmie45 and Starry8.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 38**

 **Edward.**

Dr Jenks assures me Bella's eighty percent improved and the rest will just naturally follow with time. She'll never be completely well, though. She lost her entire family; it's not possible to ever get over such a thing, but since I'm forever scarred we have that in common.

I really thought it would take more than one session to crack her, but it didn't. The doc was right. One was all she needed and it completely broke her open. I thought the first one—the one that dealt with her survivor's guilt—was bad, but the second was worse. She fainted and I only just caught her in time before she hit her head. When she came to moments later, she completely lost her shit; worse than what happened in the harbour tunnel.

She was hysterical, she couldn't breathe, and Dr Jenks told me she might have to be hospitalised for a few days-in a mental health facility. I almost lost _my_ shit at him then, because there was no fucking way under the sun I was leaving her in one of those places.

For two months after she was a ghost. She stared straight through me, she cried all the time, and when she wasn't crying she was sleeping. I had to keep reminding myself, repeatedly, that it was normal. That she was going through a natural process she didn't ten years ago, because it was completely messing with me. I took more time off work to be with her. I explained what was happening to Bella with my boss. He was understanding, but what could he do? I've been there for seven years and until Bella got pneumonia I hadn't had a single sickie. I would have chucked it in if he didn't give it to me, but he did.

Dr Jenks stopped by the house a few times to check in on her. He told me she was doing well, that she was behaving "normally", and I just needed to give her time. Considering ten years had already passed and she had gone through a lot of the process already, he was confident she'd come out of it a lot quicker.

Then slowly she started to get better. The light returned to her eyes, and then her smile. Then her libido. By New Year's she was back. I managed to keep faith in her that she could do it. I have no idea how. I no longer worry she could hurt herself. It's not completely gone, though, and I don't think it ever will. I just have to make sure she never finds out.

She hasn't had a nightmare since, but she still has her down days. She doesn't run from them anymore, though, and she doesn't shut me out, either. She's truthful when I ask her how she's doing, even if I ask her too bloody much. Sometimes she sighs as if I'm irritating her, but she still answers.

"Christ, Edward, are you going to haunt my existence forever with that bloody worry of yours?" That's how she'll sometimes reply, but if I'm truthful in return it mellows her.

"Yeah," I usually say, and she smiles and tells me I'm adorable.

I was really worried she'd come out the other end of it completely different. That I wouldn't know her, but she hasn't. The person she let me see was always her. I was that one exception for her, but then she's always been my one exception.

I wish I could say I was 100% certain she'd accept my proposal, but I wasn't. I know her well enough that if she thought I was asking her out of pity she'd shut me down, and bloody bluntly. Jake convinced me to find my balls and ask her. I had the ring since our anniversary. I was going to ask her that night, but I second guessed myself and bought her earrings, instead. She loves those bloody diamonds, she never takes them out, and it makes me smile to see her wearing them. Then she hit rock bottom and I wasn't sure I'd ever get the chance to ask her; I wasn't sure my Bella would come out of it on the other side. Watching her go through it was worse than seeing her in the hospital hooked up to the ventilator.

Jake actually asked me whether I would have ever asked her out that night in her car if I knew what I'd have to go through.

"Of course I would have!" I answered indignantly and immediately pissed off. "I knew going in she'd have a lot of problems. That never mattered."

I knew after our first date she was it. Maybe she invited me in to see if I was an arsehole, maybe she didn't. I don't believe it, though. She could have got me into bed and had a reason to break it off, christ knows she's that persuasive, but she didn't. Yeah, she's persuasive, all right. She talked Ness around in an hour. But that night she focused all her energy on me and my bullshit, and I haven't been the same since. Not only does it not bother me at all to have her hands all over me, but I long for it, every damn minute I'm with her.

"At least I'll know you'll never stray, handsome," she teased me after I flipped out in New Zealand.

As if I would anyway.

She still sees Dr Jenks. Only once a week now. She's always going to be in danger of sliding back; that's just our reality. She's stopped me from going with her, and that's fine by me. There's some things I don't have to be a part of, and her grief is personal to her. Plus, she's uncomfortable sharing certain things with me. I get that. We don't talk about her grandmother anymore. I know what happened and that's enough. She has no intention of hashing through it again. We don't talk about anything that came out with Dr Jenks, either. I know she hated the fact that I was there, and she's always going to carry guilt to some extent. I'm happy to let him work with it through her. He knows what the hell he's doing, that's for sure.

Sympathy is still out. She'll still grab my dick if I forget. In public, or in front of Jake, or her brother. Or mine. Emmett's eyes almost bugged out of his head when he first witnessed it. Then he made a smart arse comment about how he should have paid her more attention in high school.

Rosalie's still hanging around. Emmett's using her for the benefits right now, but she refuses to give in. She's nicer to Bella, though. She's not stupid. Though Bella's sarcasm goes completely over her head, so maybe she is. That's the problem with Bella, she's too damn smart. That brain of hers is being wasted on her job. I have to get her to leave and go to university.

Surely she won't mind me paying now?

With Bella I can never be sure, though, but I have to give her the choice.

I decide to do it in public because she won't hesitate to get pissed off and screechy at home, and I hate fighting with her.

"Let's go for dinner," I suggest after she walks through the door after work and plants her lips to mine; looking too bloody gorgeous in that tight skirt and high heels.

It's Thursday. She doesn't have therapy with Dr Jenks on Thursdays anymore and I miss having dinner with her after.

"Okay, but no more _Shangri-La_ ," she puts on that elitist accent again. "Somewhere _normal_ , okay?" And raising on her toes she kisses my neck. "Christ, handsome, you must drive the female teachers mental smelling like this every day."

I roll my eyes but break into a small smile regardless. "Do you want to get changed?"

"I'm fine," she insists, "and it's too hot for jeans." Because that's all she wears, skirts to work and jeans when she's not. Or nothing at all.

We get takeaway from Subway and eat in Hyde Park. It's February and still Daylight Savings, and Bella likes it here. Because of me, she never fails to remind me. Jesus, I wonder why I ever doubt her feelings for me when she's never shy about confessing them.

We sit on a park bench opposite the fountain, Bella with one leg crossed at the knee, showing too much thigh, while she yabbers on as she eats. Christ, she can talk a lot.

"Bella...?" I take advantage when she pauses to take a bite of her footlong.

"Hmm?" she mumbles with a mouth full of food.

"I have something for you."

"Oh?" she says after swallowing, her eyebrows raised.

"Yeah..." Getting to my feet I grab my wallet from my back pocket and pull the spare Visa card from it. "I added you as a second card holder on my account," I explain, sitting back down and handing it to her.

She takes it slowly as if she's cautious. "Christ, handsome, I know I'm not earning a six figure salary, or anything, but I'm not exactly on minimum wage." Then pulling her wallet from her purse she slides the card into an empty slot.

She didn't throw it back at me, at least.

"It's not that..." I say with a small sigh. "We have the wedding to pay for, and I just thought we should have a joint account. You can add your wage to it, if you like."

"Yeah, I'm sure that'll make a dent," she says ruefully.

I sigh again, louder this time. "Bella— _Jesus!_ "

"Oh, I'm kidding." She grabs my chin. "Christ, could you get any better looking?"

"You're doing my head in," I mutter more or less under my breath.

"Okay, you might as well tell me."

"Tell you...?"

"What you're worth," she elaborates. "So, come on, out with it."

"...I'm not really sure."

"Seriously?" She's not convinced.

"Bella..."

"Five hundred million?"

"It sort of fluctuates with stock prices..." I mumble, and I'm not comfortable talking about it. Bella's never fixated on money and I want to keep it that way.

"Higher or lower?" She arches an eyebrow. "If we're going to get married don't you think I should know something like that?" she adds when I don't answer.

"It's around...eight-fifty, I think," I reply reluctantly.

"Eight hundred and fifty... _million_?" she repeats, looking slightly dazed.

"Maybe nine hundred..."

"Holy shit!"

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Half a laugh bursts from her as if she's in disbelief. "For being rich?"

"I...I don't know," I murmur, breaking her gaze. "I didn't earn a cent of it. I dunno..."

"Oh, handsome..." she says, releasing her breath as if she wants to laugh at me, before leaning her head on my shoulder. "You are so adorable sometimes it kills me."

"Would you stop calling me that?"

"What?" She quirks her brow at me. "Adorable?"

"Handsome."

"Why?" She flashes me an odd look. "You _are_ handsome."

"It's... _patronising_ ," I state.

"Patronising?" she echoes, sounding suddenly irritated. "I can't call you _darling_ , I can't call you _handsome_..." she starts to rant. "Is there anything I _can_ call you?"

"Don't call me anything. Christ...I'm sorry." I turn away from her and lean forward on the bench, resting my arms on my knees. I knew I'd fuck this up.

"Okay, why are you so uptight?" she suddenly demands, immediately suspicious. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Sure thing, Mr Broody," she says dryly, before huffing. "Just bloody well tell me."

"I just wanted you on my account—is that so hard to believe!?" I burst after turning back to her, but she only eyes me sceptically.

"What do you want me to buy...?" she puts to me, and christ, she's too damn perceptive for her own good.

"The wedding," I lie but she's onto me immediately.

"Nu-uh..."

I exhale heavily and loudly, filling with frustrating, but decide to just come clean. "I...I thought...christ..." I abandon it and drop my head, groaning loudly to myself.

"Is this a pity present!?" she suddenly demands and on impulse I hunch over to protect myself.

"No!" I insist. "Don't bloody married couples have joint accounts?!" My voice raises unintentionally, but she's still not convinced. Not at all.

"Edward..." She suddenly sounds weary. "You gave me the card for a reason, so just tell me."

"Go to university!" I blurt it out before I can talk myself out of it.

Her expression immediately smooths out in surprise, and I think maybe she's moved, but it's so hard to tell. "You want me to go to university...?" Her voice wavers; she's definitely moved by it, and I release my breath in relief.

"Yeah," I say softly. "Let me pay for it, Baby. Please?"

She nods her head hastily as an obvious means to hold back her tears, because they're suddenly welling in her eyes.

"Why are you crying?" I ask, and I'm not sure if I should feel anxious or not.

"Because, handsome, just when I think I can't love you more you go and do something like this!" she bursts, dropping her head to quickly wipe her tears away.

Breaking into a smile, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer to me. "You give me bloody high blood pressure sometimes," I murmur against the side of her head.

A sound breaks from her, halfway between a laugh and a sob, before she turns her head to kiss me. "I'm not going to stop calling you handsome!" she declares after I'm forced to pull back from her.

My smile broadens and I reach out to wipe her tears away with my thumbs. "Now tell me what you want to be?" I ask her gently.

"An obstetrician," she admits, her voice softening. "I thought it'd be nice to bring life into the world after all the death I've seen."

"Okay," I agree, cupping my hand to her cheek. "I want you to do it—tomorrow. _Promise_ me."

She nods, inhaling back her tears heavily. "I will." She grabs my chin again. "You're adorable—and no, I'm not going to stop saying that, either."

I break into an immediate grin because I really don't want her to. "All right..."

"And you're tiptoeing around me again." She arches that brow at me.

"I'm _not_ ," I assure her. "It's just...last time when I brought it up you freaked out."

"Last time I wasn't wearing bloody Ayers Rock"—she holds up her hand emphasising her engagement ring—"on my left hand."

"Is that why?" I ask, and I'm surprised.

"Of course," she says simply. "Let's go home. I owe you some good loving after this."

 **. . .**

I'm still not sure whether it's because we're getting married, or because she's come out of the other end of hell so healed, but she's stopped fighting me on most things now. My Visa card was just the start of it.

She goes into work on Friday to officially resign, and when she comes through the door that afternoon, as well as carrying a box full of all the stuff off her desk, she's clutching at least three dozen roses and various cards and stuffed toys, while her boss bought her a Cartier watch as a farewell gift.

She's wearing it.

"Look, we match, handsome," she says holding it up to mine. She's wearing it on her right hand and it's slightly too big. She's going to need to take a few links from the chain. Then turning to me and sliding her hand to the back of my neck, she kisses me. "By the way, I called Sydney Uni during my lunch break," she murmurs against my lips.

"Yeah?" I say, pulling back to meet her eyes. I'd called them, as well. At least, I'd got my lawyer to call them to make sure she's accepted. She missed the first semester by a few weeks. They would have already filled every available position, and unless I did something she'd have to wait another year.

She's not waiting another year.

I'm not sure how much money I had to donate—I really don't look at my balance—but I'm sure it was a fair amount. It's not that I give a shit. There's no way I can spend the interest on the investments Pop left me—short of living like he did—let alone the rest of it.

Alec, my lawyer, called me back just after lunch to tell me as long as Bella passes the clinical aptitude test, she'll be accepted. Which means she's as good as going. She pulled off a 96 in her ATAR while still in the hell of family's death. I have no doubt she'll ace it.

"Yeah, I'm going tomorrow to sit the UCAT exam. Then they'll call me in for an interview."

"You don't need some time to prepare for it?" I ask.

She waves her hand dismissively. "God, I've had long enough."

"Let's celebrate!" I say with a grin.

" _Sure,_ " she immediately agrees, grabbing the front of my shirt with both her hands and pulling me backwards towards the bedroom.

"Bel-la," I'm forced to pull back from her lips again to better explain myself. "I meant to go out and _eat_."

"Christ, what is it with you and eating?" She's undeterred. "Besides, I don't know about you, but I'll be eating..."

A week later she's officially accepted, and two days after she starts a two year undergraduate course in Biomedical Science.

She leaves for her first lecture with her old Acer laptop under her arm and scuffed up backpack. She comes home to a new desk, chair and MacBook. I also bought her a bookcase to shelve the numerous books she has lying around gathering dust.

I ambush her the moment she walks through the door, taking her bag from her shoulder, and covering her eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asks cynically.

"This way, and no peeking," I tell her, leading her to her make-shift study without removing her hands. "Okay, ready?"

"Ready," she echoes, a small smile pulling on her lips.

I remove my hands, revealing her new room, and for a moment or two she doesn't speak. It's usually not a good sign with Bella, but then she slowly turns back to me. "You did all this?" she asks, her voice softly catching while her brow knots heavily as if she's on the verge of tears.

"Yeah. You like it?"

"Of course I bloody like it," she replies, reaching up to wrap her arms around my neck. "You're spoiling me," she says against my earlobe before planting her lips to my jaw.

"I told you I would," I remind her, moving her back and grabbing the box I'd left on the desk. "One more thing." And picking it up, I place it in her arms.

Flashing me a wry smile, she takes a small breath and pulls off the lid. She only stares at what's inside for a moment before she exclaims, "Christ, Edward! How much did this cost?"

"I...I'm not sure. It's a messenger bag—for your laptop and all your books. What...?" Her forehead's quirked, her mouth slightly open, and I can't read her expression.

"It's bloody Fendi!" she explains her reaction.

"...Fendi...? What's _Fendi_...?"

"Oh my god..." She drops her head into her hand, but she's smiling. "You are so adorable."

"So...you're not angry?"

"Of course I'm not angry. I'm just not sure whether I've scored a fiance or won the lottery."

"Bella..."

"I'm only teasing you." She grabs my chin like she often does. "Where the hell did you get this?"

"David Jones," I mumble. "Do you like it?"

"I wouldn't be female if I didn't." Placing her hand to my cheek she kisses my lips quickly. "But no spoiling me too much, okay?"

"I'll think about it, but Bella...you can buy all this yourself, you know?" I tell her, wiping a strand of her dark hair off her face.

"I know," I says simply, but she looks suddenly uncomfortable. "I bought groceries with it the other day," she points out as if that makes a difference.

I release a heavy breath and shove my hands in my pants pockets. "All right..."

"I just...I don't want to end up like my mother," she mumbles, her eyes dropping to the _Fendi_ bag she's still holding.

"...What do you mean?" I ask, taking it from her, and after dumping it back in the box, I grab her hand.

"She was just... _really_ materialistic. I don't want to be that way." She gazes up at me, looking vulnerable again.

"You can take it back if-if you like," I stammer.

She breaks into a warm smile and shakes her head. "You bought it for me, handsome. Without even knowing it's a designer label because that's how adorable and completely clueless you are. I'm keeping it."

"Erm..." I'm sure she meant to compliment me, but then she always says whatever the hell jumps into her head at any given moment that sometimes it's hard to tell.

"But, seriously, do you even look at price tags?"

"Not really..." I admit, rubbing the back of my neck and glancing momentarily away from her. "How was your first day?" I decide to change the subject.

"Interesting," she says, wrapping her arms around my waist. "I'm exhausted already, though."

"You'll be fine," I assure her, pulling her closer to me and leaning my chin against her head, "and I'll help you with Maths."

She utters out half a laugh but it sounds strange. "That was the very first memory that came back to me," she murmurs.

 **. . .**

For the next month Bella and I fall into our new routine. Some days are busier for her than others, depending on how many lectures she has, and I usually come home to find her deep in books, or typing away on her computer.

She gets a week off over Easter with me, and on Good Friday she wakes up in tears. I figure it's to do with the holidays and I stay in bed with her and hold her against me; letting her cry it out.

"He w-would have been twenty-five," she stammers, propping herself on my chest and wiping away her tears. Her eyes look like they're drowning in pain like I've seen too many times now.

"Who would have? Sam?" I ask gently, helping her to dry her eyes.

"Yeah," she hiccups. "It's his b-birthday."

"Shit, baby..." I exhale heavily. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did."

"I mean _warn_ me."

She sort of half shakes her head before laying her cheek back against my chest. "I thought I'd be okay," she mumbles.

"Do you want to go to his grave?" I offer.

"No." She almost sounds irritated. "Christ, why would I want to be reminded of his death? As if I could forget..." she mutters.

"Okay... Do you want to do something he liked to do, instead?" I suggest, pressing my lips to the side of her head.

"Hmm..." she murmurs sounding distracted. "Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"If we ever have a baby together, let's name him Sam."

"Okay," I agree, smiling to myself. I never thought I wanted kids, but I'm starting to warm up to the idea, "but...what if he's a _she_?"

She hums again as if she's contemplating it. "Then...Sam."

"All right."

"I thought about what I want to do," she says, once again raising her head to meet my eyes.

"What's that?"

She almost smirks. "I want you to distract me."

Of course she does. It wouldn't be Bella if she didn't.

 **. . .**

Bella's days soon get pretty hectic for her. She's constantly busy attending lectures and completing assignments, on top of planning for the wedding. Ness and Alice are helping her. We're only having something small. The ceremony's being held at St Philip's Anglican Church on York Street, while the reception's at View by Sydney on the pier at The Rocks. It's set for November 2nd.

Bella works best under pressure and when she's swamped. That became obvious straight away. She gets barely any sleep, and I really have no idea how she does it, but she's happy. And when she's happy, I'm happy.

By the end of March the house sells for just under sixteen million. Japanese investors buy it. I give Jake half, depositing it into his bank when he attempts to put up further resistance. Ness rings me up in tears a week later. Jake's started an apprenticeship as a mechanic, and she vows to pay me back anyway she can. She continues to ramble for another couple of minutes when I promise to get Bella to call her; I'm just as crap on the phone with women as I am in person.

"Hey," Bella greets me after she picks up my call. "Has Jake said anything?" She sounds weird, and bloody cryptic.

"No... About the house, you mean?" I put to her.

"Yeah!" she replies hastily. "What's up?—are you going to be home on time today?"

"Same time as usual... Bella...?" I abandon it. She's been pretty sleep deprived lately and often sounds spacey. "Want me to bring some dinner home?"

"Sure, but get extra. I'm starving." There's an edge to her tone; it's obvious.

"All right. Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, just up to my eyeballs in work." A weird laugh breaks from her. "Don't be late, okay?"

"Okay..." I reply becoming distracted. "Love you."

"You're adorable," she replies, which is her way of reciprocating it, and then she hangs up. And I forgot to tell her to call Ness.

I arrive home a few minutes before five, and just as I pull myself from the car, clutching the plastic bag full of Chinese food, Bella opens the front door and approaches me. This is when I realise something's definitely up. She doesn't immediately meet my gaze, but when she does it's obvious she's anxious. Really bloody anxious, and while one arm is folded across her chest the other is propped up with the tip of her thumb between her teeth.

I release my breath, resigned. "Okay, what's going on?"

For a moment she doesn't speak; she only gazes up at me and her expression is throwing me. She looks genuinely bloody worried.

"I need you to promise me something," she eventually says reaching out to take a fistful of my shirt.

"Bella..."

"Edward, I'm not kidding— _promise me_!" she blurts abruptly, and she's serious.

"Promise you _what_?" I put to her.

"That you'll stay calm."

"Jesus, what the hell's happened now!?" I burst, reaching out to drag my fingers back over my scalp.

"Just...stay calm, okay?" Releasing my shirt, she grabs my hand before I can reef it through my hair a second time. " _Promise me_." She's insistent.

"What do you want me to be calm about?" I ask, becoming frustrated.

"Just..." Shaking her head she lets it go, and turning she makes her way back toward the house, tugging me along after her.

Once we're inside the hall, she takes the bag of food from me and sits it on the hall-stand before turning to fully face me. "Calm, remember?" she reiterates, dropping her voice to a whisper.

"I'm calm," I say lowly with an impatient breath, but I'm growing curious at the same time. She's concerned for me but at the same time...

Grabbing my hand again, she leads me into the lounge room. I take no more than two steps when I stop again.

A kid is sitting on the sofa opposite the window, and when my gaze meets his he springs to his feet nervously. He looks like he hasn't showered in a month, his clothes are dirty and his hair is unruly and needs to be cut. He only stares at me for a moment, and I stare back feeling the frown etch my forehead; wondering whether Bella's adopted us a bloody kid, or something, when I immediately pause.

As he continues to gaze at me with these wide, fearful eyes, I suddenly realise...they're familiar. That's when I take closer notice of the shade of his hair, and the features of his face... This kid, who only appears to be ten years old at the very most, looks exactly like my grandfather.

He looks exactly like me.

* * *

 **A/N: Dun, dun, dun... I did foreshadow this, but I was very subtle. I didn't want to give it away. Was it obvious? I think a few of you were onto me ;)  
Thank you for reading, and Kim has a note that explains the US equivalent for Medical exams/terms. I'll add it when she wakes from the other side of the world.**

 **Beta note:**

 **The Australian Tertiary Admission Rank (ATAR) is a number between 0.00 and 99.95 that indicates a student's position relative to all the students in their age group. Universities use the ATAR to help them select students for their courses and admission to most tertiary courses that is based on your selection rank (your ATAR + any applicable adjustments). UCAT-University Clinical Aptitude Test (UCAT) The largest medical admissions test for universities in selection for Medicine, Dentistry, selected clinical sciences. This is the same as the MCAT (Medical College Admission Test) in 'Murica.  
**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: happy Sunday. Or Saturday for most of you who don't live in Tomorrow Land like us Aussies do. Thank you, of course, to Kimmie45 and StarryEyedWriter8, and I hope you all** **enjoy.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 39**

 **Bella.**

I always considered anything short of an A+ as a failing grade. I'm not sure if that was my father speaking through me, but it was definitely ingrained into me. It still is. Of course, with my C- average in Maths, I considered myself an abysmal failure. Ironically, all I can really, confidently, recall about High school Maths is what Edward taught me those two weeks in the library.

He was a good tutor, and ridiculously good at Maths. He taught me more in those two weeks than my dull as dishwater Maths teacher could in six months. I can't believe I once thought Edward wasn't very smart, but then those steely eyes of his reveal a depth to him that I'm still discovering.

A+ in high school is now the university equivalent of a High Distinction, and that's what I'm determined to score for my first report on "Model Organisms".

I finished it a few days before it was due only to descend into anxiety and decided to revise it. I pull an all-nighter. I'm not sure when I crash still sitting at my desk with various papers stuck to my face, but at dawn I vaguely recall Edward hauling me to bed.

"You're going to get sick again," he warns me, tucking me beneath the blankets, his voice firm and slightly exasperated while immersed in that ever constant pain and worry he carries.

"I'm fine, handsome," I mumble in reply, clumsily reaching out to grab his face, and then I'm asleep.

 **. . .**

I oversleep, which is bloody poetic. I wake with twenty minutes until my first lecture, when I have to submit my assignment, and immediately know the ferry is not going to cut it. I'll have to drive. Over the bridge. At peak hour.

I'm in such a mad rush I don't really stop to contemplate it, and am racing across the campus lawn to class with thirty seconds to spare. I don't realise what an accomplishment it was until I'm having a delayed reaction at the start of my second lecture; especially, with the knowledge that I'll have to go back over the bridge to go home, or take the harbour tunnel.

I briefly consider reaching out to Ness and Jake or Alice and Jasper to help me, when I decide to suck it up. Calling Edward is out of the question, too. I don't want him worrying about me anymore. He's done enough of that in our year-and-a-half relationship that I swear sometimes when he looks at me, all the damage I've done to him is reflecting in his eyes.

That man...

I drive over the bridge doing forty and pissing off all the motorists while breaking into a cold sweat, but I make it home in one piece while still managing to breathe on my own.

I'm bloody proud of myself and immediately grab my phone to tell handsome when Jake calls.

"Bella," he says abruptly before I get a chance to utter a single syllable. "You might want to get over here." He sounds completely freaked, and my first thought is it has something to do with Ness or his family; in which case he would have called Edward.

"What...?" I ask filling with uncertainty. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Not wrong. Jesus, I'm not sure how to explain it. Can you come now?"

"I just got home. I'll be there in a few minutes. Is it Edward?" I ask apprehensively, placing a palm over my creased forehead. Jake doesn't often call me; in fact, I can count the number of times on my hand. The last was to thank me for talking Ness around. He'll usually go through Edward, which is completely understandable, so I'm a little thrown off.

"Yeah," he admits, releasing a heavy breath and I'm immediately on edge.

"Jake..."

"It's not bad. Listen, you'll understand when you get here. You coming now?"

"I'm on my way."

I'm still shaken after my trip across the bridge, but I'm so distracted I drive a lot faster than I otherwise would have. Jake must have been listening out for me because just as I'm climbing out of my car on the driveway, he swings open the front door and strides toward me.

"Okay, what the hell's going on!" I burst after seeing his expression. It's animated but completely overrun, and I can barely guess what it could be.

"Come inside," he instructs me, and taking my elbow, he leads me through the entry door and down the hall to Edward's old bedroom. His bed sits stripped bare beneath the window, and opposite is his dresser that holds nothing but dust, but other than that it's completely empty.

"So..." Jake begins after closing the door behind him. "I was packing—Ness is on afternoon shift and she just left for work," he pauses to gauge me, and confused and a little impatient, I nod my head for him to continue. "Someone knocked on the door, I answered it and it's this...kid. He asked me if I was his dad—"

"A kid...?" I repeat vacantly.

"A kid." He nods, bowing his head to run his hand over it. "I'm not his father, Bella, but when you see him it's pretty obvious who is."

"...Are you saying...Edward is..." I can't finish. I'm not sure I have words, but it's completely inconceivable.

Glancing up again, Jake only nods again, slowly this time.

"Where is he?" I ask. My heart's beginning to hammer, and breaking his gaze I scramble around in my bag clumsily for my inhaler.

"In the lounge room."

Almost mechanically, I turn and exit Edward's old room and head back down the hall to the kitchen and family room. Jake's behind me, and placing his hand on my shoulder, he leads me into the back room that overlooks the pool. This is where the kid in question sits on the edge of the sofa, clutching a can of Coke with both hands.

He looks up at me as I enter, just as I pull up short, my breath immediately drawing.

"Oh my god..." I utter in barely a whisper behind both my hands that almost instinctively clamped over my mouth.

He's... _Edward_.

Everything about him, from his unusual shade of chestnut-brown hair to his striking green eyes and pale skin—it's all Edward. The little boy that Edward often appears to be is standing before me in the flesh.

"Right...?" Jake mumbles in understanding from beside me. "Mate," he addresses him, and those sharp green eyes sever from mine and turn to Jake, "remember I told you your dad's getting married?" The boy nods, his gaze flitting to mine again momentarily. "This is his fiancé, Bella. Bella," Jake turns to me, "meet Tyler. Tyler Hawkins."

"Hey, Tyler," I say softly, but I can barely take a breath.

"Hi," he mumbles before he glances down at the can he's continuing to clutch. He's shy, and christ, he's sucking in his cheeks exactly the same way Edward does.

I open my mouth to reply, but I'm speechless. I feel like I've just wandered into a bloody alternate universe. Edward's son is right before me. How the hell can this be real?

"Jake..." I turn to him and all but plead, but for what I have absolutely no idea.

"Come outside," he murmurs, glancing back over at Tyler. "Bella and I are going to talk for a moment, mate, okay? Do you want something to eat?"

"No," he answers, his eyes remain fixed on his hands, and my heart suddenly aches for him. He's scruffy, and his Manuka honey coloured hair hangs in his eyes.

"He didn't know, did he?" I put to Jake a little too desperately the moment he closes the sliding door to the balcony behind us.

"Of course he didn't know. We heard the rumours, but Jesus, Lauren was such a mole. If I knew she was pregnant, Edward would have been the last person I would have assumed caused it."

"Jesus Christ..." I say in disbelief, pushing my fingers through the front of my hair.

"Are you okay?" he asks me, and in reply, I laugh without a scrap of humour.

"Right now?"

"Yeah," he acknowledges, releasing his breath again. "Shit..."

"I guess it's official, Lauren Mallory is one giant recessive gene," I mumble, while the shock is beginning to make me feel numb.

"Christ—right?" Jake replies in immediate agreement. "I thought kids are meant to get half their genes from their mother!"

"Oh my God..." I can only utter in continued disbelief as I gaze out over the harbour. "Why—why'd he go out with her?" I ask pointlessly, because it's not as if it's even relevant anymore.

"I set it up," he admits. "She was so easy she was a sure thing, and I figured she could loosen him up a bit. I gave him a condom but he was probably so uptight he forgot to put it on."

"Christ..." I repeat in a whisper. It's all I'm capable of at the moment. It's not often that I'm lost for words, but if there was ever a reason to be speechless, my fiance's long lost son turning up unexpectedly would have to be it. "He's got to be...eleven," I say after doing the calculations in my head.

"Yeah, I thought that, too."

"Has he told you anything?" I ask, glancing up at him.

"He told me his mother died when he was born"—I snort caustically—"and his Nan raised him. A couple of years ago she died and he was put into foster care, but his foster mother was abusing him. He's full of bruises, Bella..." he drops his voice to a whisper in emphasis, and on impulse, I turn my head and gaze at the lost little boy sitting in Edward's grandfather's house.

Looking up, he catches my stare and almost smiles. He's so shy and sweet that the returning smile has spread wide across my face before I'm aware of it. He immediately blushes, his face turning a deep red, and I come very close to tears. He's adorable—he's beyond adorable—and I'm suddenly seething at the thought that he was mistreated.

"So...he ran away?"

"Yeah."

"How...did he know...?" I ask, becoming distracted. I'm not sure how Edward is going to take all this but _well_ is definitely out of the question.

Jake reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, producing what looks like a birthday card that's folded in half. He opens it, it's torn and falling apart, and inside is written, "My dearest Tyler, Happy Birthday, love from Nanna," while beneath it is Edward's full name and address. His _grandfather's_ address.

Taking it from him, I gaze down at it for the longest time until the words start to obscure and become nothing but a jumble of letters. "How'd he get here?"

"He hitchhiked," Jake answers, sounding oddly impressed, as my breath immediately sucks in in horror.

"What?" I blurt, and Jake replies with a shrug. "Christ!"

"What are you going to do with him?" he ventures, his tone turning serious again.

"Take him home and wait for Edward," I answer almost vacantly.

"Okay," he nods, "but if Edward flips later, call me, alright? I'll calm him down."

I scoff dryly. "I think that's going to be a given." Then pulling open the sliding glass door, I head back inside.

"Hey, sweetie," I say gently sitting beside him on the sofa. "Would you like to go back to my house and wait for your dad?"

He nods, his eyes wide as they fix to mine. "Do you think he'll like me?" he asks, and he's so hopeful my heart splinters.

"He'll definitely like you," I assure him, "but honey, he never knew about you, so he's going to be pretty shocked in the beginning. Okay?"

He appears to contemplate my words for a moment before he nods again. "My nan said he never knew."

"Do you know how much you look like him? You're just as handsome," I tell him, tipping his chin, and smiling awkwardly to himself, he blushes again. I'm on the verge of dying; this kid is killing me already.

"My nan said I look like him too..." he mumbles, that ferocious blush working its way to the tips of his ears.

"You are adorable," I reply, too impulsively, wrapping my arm around his shoulders. He tenses slightly but doesn't attempt to avoid me. "You hungry?" I put to him and he nods for a third time. "Okay, we'll stop off for lunch, shall we?"

"Okay..."

"Do you want to hold my hand?" I offer, extending it to him. He's so much like his father after all, and I don't want to overstep with him.

He nods again and places his trembling hand in mine.

I break my gaze from him and glance up at Jake. I'm fairly certain my expression needs no explanation because Jake only nods his head in understanding.

"Okay, let's go," I say, turning back to Tyler and pulling him with me off the sofa. Christ, he's only a couple of inches shorter than I am. He's going to be tall, as well. "Thanks, Jake," I say.

"No worries, and get Edward to call me later, alright? See ya, mate," he addresses Tyler.

"Do you have my card?" Tyler asks him.

"Oh," Jake says as if suddenly recalling before he pulls it from his back pocket and hands it to him.

Tyler takes it, and it's obvious it's precious to him. He handles it as if it were fine china.

"Well, come on, sweetie." I lead Tyler down the hall toward the entrance with my legs shaking beneath me; no matter how hard I attempt to conceal it from him. It's funny how a day can start out so normal. I never expected this, not in a million years, but here I am; Edward's child following my lead and gazing up at me with an expression so familiar I can scarcely wrap my mind around it.

"So, what do you feel like for lunch?" I put to him after strapping him in the car beside me.

His eyes brighten and he opens his mouth to answer before shutting it again. "I don't mind."

I gaze at him for a moment, marvelling at how after only just meeting him I already have an overwhelming desire to protect him. "Okay, well, if you don't tell me I'm going to get us...McDonald's," I reply because I suspect that's what he was about to answer with.

He smiles all sunny and shy, and christ, he's so much like Edward it's unnerving. "I was going to say McDonald's."

I draw in my breath, feigning surprise, then start the engine. "Great minds, huh?"

 **. . .**

"Tell me about your nan, Tyler?" I ask him after a couple of minutes into the drive. "Were you close?"

"Yeah," he answers, a palpable sadness reflecting in his tone, "but she died when I was eight."

"I'm sorry, sweetie. My parents died when I was young, too. I know how horrible it is," I say softly, reaching out to cup my hand to his cheek. His face is dirty, as are his clothes, and it's obvious he hasn't been cleaned in a while.

He regards me for a moment until a smile once more warms his face. I return it and he blushes again, looking down at his lap.

"Seriously, you are killing me with how adorable you are," I tease him, until I realise I'm essentially torturing him.

"When are you and my dad getting married?" he asks hesitantly a moment later.

"November," I answer simply.

"Is that your wedding ring?" He glances down at Ayer's Rock.

"It is. Nice isn't it?"

He nods, sucking on the inside of his cheeks again. "Is...my dad rich?"

I open my mouth to reply when I pause. I'm unsure what Jake told him, or even his grandmother. "Well...he's not poor..."

"Does he work in a big company? That's what my nan said."

"His grandfather worked in a big company, but your dad is a school teacher."

"Oh," he says in a mumble.

"He'll like you, Tyler. I promise you," I feel the need to reassure him.

"Really?"

"Really. He likes anyone I like, and I think you're adorable."

He blushes again, and I suddenly realise exactly how much I'm torturing him.

I take him to the McDonald's in St Leonards, only a couple of minutes from my house. It meant travelling along the Pacific Highway for a few kilometres, but with Tyler beside me, I was too distracted to let it affect me.

"Do you want to get drive-thru or sit inside?" I ask, just as I'm pulling into the carpark.

"What do you want to do?" he puts it back to me. He's so incredibly uncertain, and I'm unsure whether it's his personality or a result of being abused in foster care.

"I'm honestly happy to do whatever you want to do," I insist.

"Can we sit inside?" he asks, his brows rising high.

"Sure," I say brightly. "How'd you get to Jake's house, sweetie?" I need a reason to clean him up without making him conscious of the fact that he obviously hasn't had a bath in christ knows when. I also don't want anyone thinking I'm the one responsible for neglecting this sweet boy.

"A truck driver," he answers timidly.

"Ah, I thought as much. You're covered in diesel fumes," I tease him lightly, reaching into my purse for the small packet of wet wipes I carry with me. As clumsy as I am I'm often cleaning myself up. "Let's wipe it off."

He allows me to clean his face, hands, and arms while I pretend I don't notice the bruises that align his small body or the fact that he's dressed in filthy, poor quality clothes. I can only quietly fume to myself while making a mental note to be present when Edward faces the bureaucrats who did this to his son. I'm going to unleash hell.

"What do you feel like?" I ask, draping my arm around his shoulders as he gazes up at the menu.

"Um...a cheeseburger meal?" he replies, and I get the impression he's never had McDonald's before.

"A cheeseburger meal? Sure. What drink do you want? A soft drink or thick shake?"

"A thick shake," he answers.

"Chocolate?"

"Strawberry."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you." I nudge him, and cue that adorable blush again. "What about dessert?"

"Really?" He turns to gaze at me, his eyes wide.

" _Really_."

"What are you going to have?" he puts it back to me again, and christ, it's exactly what Edward does. There's no nature versus nurture debate with this kid so far.

"Hmm...caramel sundae. What about you?"

"Can...I have a McFlurry?"

"You sure can. What flavour?"

"Um..." He glances back up at the menu. "Oreo?" he asks me again, and it's definitely obvious he's never had McDonald's before. His eyes are lit up like it's Christmas morning.

"Certainly." I turn to the cashier to order. She notices my engagement ring, and Edward's platinum card that I hand her before her gaze pulls discreetly to Tyler and she raises a smug brow to herself. I'm not sure of the exact presumptions she's making, but I have the sudden compulsion to grab her by the scruff of her shirt and slap her silly.

Snatching the receipt she hands me, I glare at her, making her immediately cower, before Tyler and I move to the side to await our meal. He'd noticed the way I'd dealt with her, and for a moment he only stares at me. Then just when I realise I could have potentially scared him, wanting to kick myself, he suddenly smirks to himself.

After picking up our lunch, I find us a table away from the judgy little employee and watch as Tyler finishes his burger in three bites.

"When was the last time you ate, sweetie?" I ask him delicately as he starts on his fries; jamming at least ten of them in his mouth at once.

"Um..." he mumbles, his cheeks full of food while shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "The truck driver gave me a Milky Way this morning."

"That was nice of him. Did you have a lot to eat when you lived with your foster parents?"

"I only had a foster mother," he says in a quiet voice, his gaze downcast, and when he looks up at me again it's beseeching. "You won't make me go back there, will you, Bella?" Those acute green eyes of his well steadily with tears and I suddenly feel very volatile.

"Of course I won't!" I insist passionately. "Neither will your dad. I promise you, Tyler!"

"Are you going to keep me?" His voice drops to a whisper, and I inhale stiffly to hold off the rapidly building emotion.

"We're going to keep you," I reply without hesitation just as my heart squeezes in caution. I really shouldn't give him false hope until I can talk all this through with Edward, but I cannot imagine he'd turn his back on his own flesh and blood. Not with his childhood. Not the Edward I know.

Tyler smiles in obvious relief and hastily wipes away his tears. "Jake said you'd be nice to me."

"Why wouldn't I be nice to a sweetheart like you?" I tease him softly, my emotions wavering again before I'm forced to rein them back in.

He blushes and severs his gaze from mine to continue gorging himself on his fries while the smile remains on his lips.

"Would you like to see a photo of him?" I offer when he's halfway through his McFlurry. I need to get the kid to slow down. I'm starting to worry he'll choke.

He looks up; his expression is curious and more than a little eager. "Yeah."

Pulling my phone from my purse, I flick through to the photos of Edward and me in New Zealand. Then, finding the clearest one, I turn the screen around and hold it out for Tyler to see. "This is when we got engaged."

He stares at it for the longest moment, his eyes clearly absorbing every aspect of his father, before they turn back to me. "Whoa..." he utters. "He _does_ look like me."

" _You_ look like _him_ ," I correct him, grabbing his chin only to embarrass him again. "Okay, if I make you uncomfortable you can tell me. I'm just a grabber."

"A...grabber?" he repeats dubiously, reminding me so much of Edward on our first date that I laugh.

"You are adorable."

"I'm not uncomfortable. My nan used to kiss me all the time," he explains, turning his flushed face from me to spoon more Oreo flavoured ice cream into his mouth.

After lunch, instead of going home, I head to Chatswood Westfields. It means being on the A1 freeway for longer than I'd usually be able to tolerate, but Tyler has nothing but the clothes on his back, and they're only good for the rubbish. I can't in good conscience not buy him more.

"How old are you, sweetie?" I venture, pulling into the underground carpark.

"Eleven," he confirms my calculations.

"When's your birthday?"

"March fourteenth."

"Ah, so you only just turned eleven. What did you get for your birthday?" I continue to probe when I realise what the hell I'd just said.

"Um...a...a football," he stammers, and he's not even remotely convincing.

"You didn't get anything, did you?" I ask him gently.

He bows his head and shakes it. "I'm sorry..."

My heart is practically bleeding for him, and reaching out, I grab his hand, squeezing it. "It's not your fault, sweetie."

In return, he flashes me an awkward smile and half shrugs.

"Would you like me to buy you one—a belated birthday present?" I suggest just as his eyes widen and his mouth drops open.

"Really?"

" _Really_ ," I tease him in an effort to put him at ease. The kid deserves eleven of them. One for every year he didn't get one from his father.

That smile of his immediately turns genuine. "O-okay."

"Come on, then," I say, pulling on the handbrake and opening the door.

I take him to Target first and buy him the necessities; socks and underwear, followed by pyjamas. After figuring out he's a size twelve, I let him choose his own. He goes with Guardians of the Galaxy and Star Wars themed, and I know immediately this kid is awesome.

For his clothes, I take him to David Jones. After what he's been wearing for christ knows how long, he deserves something decent. Together we pick out five pairs of jeans, and as many shirts and jumpers. After, I head to the register while he follows me with his jaw hovering somewhere near the ground.

"Can you afford all this, Bella?" he whispers in disbelief as the sales assistant rings it up.

Curving my elbow around his neck, I pull him close to me. "Of course, I can afford it," I tell him covertly. I don't exactly want the saleswoman to hear.

She does anyway and offers Tyler a warm smile.

"Shoes," I add after we leave the store, shopping bags in tow.

I take him into the closest sports shop and buy him a pair of red chucks and a pair of Adidas. It's a good feeling to have a reason to spend Edward's money, and I can't think of a better one.

"Can I wear them now?" he asks, his eyes lighting up from their sharp depths.

"You sure can," I agree, and parking ourselves on the nearest mall bench, I help him tear off the cheap and nasty shoes he's wearing and holey socks.

Christ, even his feet are like Edward's.

I grab a pair of the socks I'd just bought him, while Tyler pulls the crumpled paper from inside his new Adidas shoes, just as my phone rings.

It's Edward.

"Hey," I greet him, and I'm unable to conceal my rather frayed emotions fully. "Has Jake said anything?" I ask no bloody reason why. It's not exactly the kind of thing you'd say over the phone, after all.

"No..." he answers, sounding slightly confused. "About the house, you mean?"

"Yeah!" I blurt, shaking my head to myself. "What's up?—are you going to be home on time today?"

"Same time as usual... Bella...?" he begins, and it's obvious he knows something's up. I'm not sure it's possible to completely fake it, though. "Want me to bring some dinner home?" he offers, and I'm glad he, for whatever reason, doesn't decide to push me.

"Sure, but get extra. I'm starving," I reply, glancing at Tyler and winking. He'd paused in the middle of tying his shoes, his ears obviously pricked as I speak to Edward; the father he fears will reject him.

"All right. Sure you're okay?" Yeah, there's not much getting past handsome these days.

"Yeah, just up to my eyeballs in work," I lie, laughing ironically to myself. "Don't be late, okay?"

"Okay..." he mumbles, and it's clear he's not buying any of it. I need to get off the bloody phone. "Love you."

"You're adorable," I tell him, my heart warming the same way it always does when he professes his love for me. I still find it hard to believe. Then catching myself, and almost too quickly, I hang up. "That was Edward—your dad," I explain to Tyler.

His face becomes almost vulnerable and he nods; sucking in those cheeks again.

"Hey, so how about that birthday present now?" I remind him.

"But...aren't my new clothes my birthday present?" he asks with uncertainty.

"Um, what kind of evil person would I be if I bought you clothes for your birthday?" I joke, and a grin immediately replaces his initial apprehension.

"Come on, handsome," I say, pulling him off the bench. "Those shoes look cool."

He's reluctant to tell me what he wants this time, and time's running out; Edward will be home soon. I take him back into Target and he hovers near the video games almost subconsciously, but without a television I know I'll have to get the next best thing.

"What about...an iPad?" I suggest just as he almost has a stroke.

" _What_? An _iPad_?" His voice practically fails.

"Don't you need one for school?" I ask, and he gives me a funny look.

"We only have computers at school. In the library..."

"Okay, well you definitely need one then." I'm insistent, because what school doesn't have bloody iPads? Or am I still living in the illusion of the inner Eastern Suburbs?

"But aren't they a lot of money?" he puts to me way too innocently.

"Tyler, you're eleven years old. If your father bought you a present every year on your birthday spending roughly one hundred dollars, that'd add up to eleven hundred," I attempt to reason with him. "So, in that retrospect, it's not a lot of money, at all."

He appears to contemplate it for a moment but isn't immediately sold. "Will he be mad?"

"He'll be mad, alright. He'll be mad no one told him you were born." I sling my arm around his shoulders. "So, no worrying, worrywart. You want an iPad?"

"Um...yeah." He's eager but really cautious at the same time, and oh boy, does he remind me of Edward.

Five minutes later with an iPad Pro added to the list of bought items, we head back to the car. I have to get home before Edward; I need time to prepare him.

"Where am I going to sleep?" Tyler asks me shyly after I unlock the front door and lead him inside. He realises immediately my house is small.

"You can crash on the lounge tonight, but we'll work out something soon for the long-term. Don't stress, okay, sweetie?"

"Okay," he mumbles, a small smile tugging on his lips just as Oppa comes charging in from outside through his doggy door to greet him, and as Edward's car pulls to a stop in the carport.

"Bella...?" Tyler speaks up, sounding uneasy and going five shades paler.

"It's okay. I promised you, remember?" I remind him, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and leading him into the lounge room. "Stay here for a sec and I'll introduce him to you, all right?"

"All right," he echoes in a small voice, sitting down on the sofa and looking scared to death.

I have to get to Edward before he comes inside, and immediately exit through the front door to head him off. I'm nervous, so nervous I feel physically sick, and almost subconsciously I wrap an arm across my chest to mute the sound of my heart.

Edward pulls himself from the car, a plastic bag full of food in one hand and his briefcase in the other. He looks up and catches my gaze, breaking into a warm welcoming grin, but it quickly falls.

"Okay, what's going on?" he puts to me, his shoulders sagging behind a heavy breath.

My hands are shaking, and without realising it, I reach out and grab his shirt in my fist. "I need you to promise me something," I tell him, and my voice is serious. Too serious, but I can't help it.

"Bella..." He sighs.

"Edward, I'm not kidding. Promise me!" I beg him, knowing I sound as frazzled as I feel.

"Promise you what?" he asks. He's frustrated, and his eyes are burning with uncertainty exactly like the little boy's inside.

"That you'll stay calm..."

"Jesus, what the hell happened now!" he snaps, dragging his hand through his hair even as he remains clutching the plastic bag of food.

"Just...stay calm, okay?" Releasing his shirt, I take his hand in mine. "Promise me."

"What do you want me to be calm about?" he asks with growing impatience.

"Just..." I begin, but shaking it from my thoughts, I turn toward the house without letting go of his hand. I can't just tell him; I have to let him see Tyler for himself.

"Calm, remember?" I remind him in a whisper—knowing Tyler can hear me—after closing the front door behind us. Taking the bag of Chinese food from him, I dump it on the hall table.

"I'm calm," he says huffing softly, his brow knotting, and grabbing his hand I lead him into the lounge room.

He takes no more than three steps when he abruptly stops; much the same way I did only a few hours earlier. His gaze fixes to Tyler, widening slightly in what is definitely shock, as Tyler himself immediately lunges to his feet.

They only stare at each other. Tyler, with such a raw expression that's engulfed with fear and uncertainty, while Edward's is incomprehensible. He's in disbelief, but at the same time, I know he's seeing exactly what I saw when I first met Tyler.

Through Edward's eyes, I know his mind has already reached acceptance, even if he can't bring himself to speak it. That this young boy before him with the exact same shade of hair, and the same intensity swimming within identical green eyes, is his son.

Then, as if something snaps deep within Edward, he suddenly turns on his heel and leaves the room, and then the house; slamming the front door behind him. Tyler only stares after him, his wide eyes filling with tears.

"He's shocked, sweetie, that's all," I attempt to placate him before I turn and chase after Edward.

"Hey!" I yell, catching up to him just as he throws himself into his car.

"I...I didn't know, Bella. You believe me, don't you?" he pleads with me, his voice already so affected and his eyes completely overrun.

"Of course, I do!" I insist because I never once doubted him. "But...Edward, where are you going?"

"I have to find out—if he knew!" he answers, beginning to sound irrational.

"Who?" I ask softly.

"My grandfather," he says stiffly, his eyes dropping to the ground for a moment, his brow heavily ridged, when they again steel back to mine. "Look after him. I'll be back soon," is all he discloses, pulling the car door shut. Then, turning the ignition, he reverses out of the driveway so quickly his tyres screech against the concrete.

"Christ," I whisper, chewing subconsciously on my thumbnail. Then with a deep sigh, I turn and head back inside to Tyler.

He's still standing by the sofa as if he were frozen with his head bowed. He looks up as I enter, and my heart immediately breaks for him; tears are streaming silently over his cheeks.

"Tyler—"

"I knew he wouldn't like me."

* * *

 **A/N: yes, Tyler Hawkins, because he's my fave Patz role.**

* * *

 ***Mole - skank.**


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: So, I was going to update Sunday (tomorrow), but I'm going to be out all day. Ugh, so I'm getting this out to you a day earlier.** **The question remains, will Edward step up?** **  
Thanks Kimmie45 and StarryEyedWriter8.  
Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 40**

 **Edward.**

"Edward, you can't just go in there!" Alec's secretary warns me, pulling herself abruptly to her feet.

I only ignore her and continue walking past her desk and down the hall to his office, and without hesitating I grab the handle and shove it open.

He's alone, but it wouldn't have mattered to me if he wasn't.

"Edward!" Alec says in surprise, rising from behind his desk. "What's going—" But that's as far as I allow him to speak, before I cut him off.

"Did he know!?" I demand and I'm so pissed off and shaken I'm not sure I'm even rational.

"...About what?" he puts the question to me calmly, taking his seat again.

"About the kid in my house who looks exactly like me!" My voice rises and my patience severs.

Taking a measured breath he bows his head momentarily into his hand. "So, you've met Tyler."

"... _Tyler_...?" I repeat blankly. "So he knew then? He knew and _no one bothered to tell me_!"

"You weren't exactly in a position to raise a child, Edward. Your grandfather knew this," he attempts to reason with me but I only laugh scornfully.

"Why didn't he adopt him like he did with me and Emmett? At least then I would have known him!"

Again he pauses, scrutinising me for a moment. "Edward, Carlisle never wanted you boys to know this, but he had quite advanced heart disease. He lived a lot longer than he was supposed to. There was no way he could have taken on a baby."

"What...?" I utter in continued disbelief as my mind races ahead of me. Pop never appeared unwell. At all...

"I can show you all his medical records if you'd like," he offers.

I only shake my head; from confusion as much as in reply to him. "No."

"Edward..." He sighs.

"Did he ever have any intention of telling me?" I snap, dragging my fingers over my scalp. I'm being overrun with a thousand emotions, and all I keep seeing in my mind is the colour of his eyes. Pop's eyes. _My_ eyes.

"Yes, when you were healthy, and preferably when you had a family of your own."

I laugh again humourlessly. "Well, that was good of him."

"He's been providing for him since he was born. He paid child support to his adoptive mother on your behalf. He made sure the boy attended a good school. He did everything he could to provide for him in your absence."

"Provide for him...?" I echo sceptically. "Don't feed me that bullshit, Alec! The kid looks like he's been living in a fucking dumpster the last ten years!"

"I'm sorry?" he asks in obvious confusion. "Edward, your grandfather took every measure to—"

"You think I'm lying!" I burst! "Would you like me to bring him here so you can see for yourself?"

"I understand that you're upset, but let me get to the bottom of this," he instructs me, picking up his phone and resting it against his shoulder. "Take a seat." He gestures to the leather chair opposite him. "Or would you rather wait outside?"

"I'll be back," I inform him, turning to exit his office, and pulling my phone from my pocket as I do.

I call Bella; she answers immediately sounds close to tears.

"I'm sorry, baby," I apologise, taking a breath and exhaling wearily.

"I'm okay," she immediately reassures me, "but, Edward...he thinks you don't like him."

"He... Bella, I'm a stranger to him."

"You're his father, Edward!" she insists, her voice hitching. "He needs you."

"I...I just... Jesus..." I abandon it, dragging my fingers back through my hair. "Alec's trying to work out what happened to him."

"Did he know?" she asks apprehensively. "Your grandfather?"

"Yeah, he knew," I mumble.

"Christ..." is all she says with a sigh.

"What...what do you know about him?" I ask, rubbing the back of my neck distracted as his face continues to project back through my thoughts. He really is the image of Pop.

"Hang on..." Her voice drops and she pauses for several moments before I hear the wind rush over the receiver of her phone.

"You outside?" I ask the obvious question.

"Yeah, I don't want him to hear. Anyway, he's been in foster care for the past three years, and he...he was abused there." Her voice suddenly wavers.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." I mutter angrily, but I can barely comprehend any of it.

"I bought him lunch today and he gorged on it as though it was the first proper meal he'd eaten in months," she continues softly.

"Where was he living before foster care?" I ask.

"With a woman he thinks was his grandmother. I assume she adopted him, but she died when he was eight."

"...Does he know his mother?" I ask after a pause.

"No, he told me she died when he was born," she replies, and I laugh dryly.

"So, his mother abandoned him, and I never knew he was even alive..." I conclude bitterly more or less to myself.

"I'm sorry, Edward," she whispers. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure," I answer truthfully, because I don't.

"Please don't say..."

"Baby, I just... I've got to get to the bottom of it, first," I interject, becoming frustrated.

"Edward!" Her tone hardens. "You're not going to send him back into foster care—christ!"

"Of course I'm not!" I reply, reefing my hand back through my hair again. "Is that what you think of me?"

"I just... Don't do anything rash," she suddenly pleads with me.

I shake my head, swallowing past the emotion that's beginning to lump in my throat. "Bella...?"

"Yeah?" her voice completely breaks; the tears now obvious in her voice.

"Will you...will you help me?" I ask, clearing my throat roughly.

"Of course I will!" she insists. "Edward, how could I love you, and not love every part of you?"

"Jesus..." I whisper in continued shock, rubbing my eyes in frustration. "Do...you remember that night in your car? When you asked me if I had a kid?"

"Yeah."

"Did you hear something?"

She sighs as if in resignation. "I overheard Jessica Stanley gossiping about it in the library. She was saying how Lauren had been sent away by her father to have it, and that...your grandfather paid a lot of money to keep your name out of it."

"Fuck sake," I utter, hanging my head in defeat. "Baby..."

"I know you didn't know, Edward. It's okay."

"I just... I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do," I admit helplessly, and it's not as if I ever _had_ a father, or anything.

"I'm going to help you— _okay_?"

"Okay..."

"Honey, he's completely amazing. He's so much like you it's crazy. He's shy and really, _really_ sweet."

"Just make sure you get him everything he needs, all right? I'm not sure when I'm going to be home."

"I took him out today and bought him new clothes. I can't believe the state he was in..." Her voice catches again in as much disbelief as anger.

"How-how'd you find him?" I stammer.

"He found you. Or rather, he found your grandfather's house. Jake answered the door, and well...he recognised him immediately."

"He's Pop..." I mumble.

"He's _you_!" she immediately counters.

"The most awkward sixty seconds of my life, and he's the result," I say, uttering out a completely fucked up laugh.

"You were a force to be reckoned with even then, handsome," she replies, her voice softening, and she's taking this entirely too well.

"Bella...I'm really sorry," I confess rubbing my forehead with my fingers stiffly.

"You're sorry? For fathering a child?" she asks dubiously. "Oh, honey..."

"I'm just... Fuck, I don't know..."

"Don't let it overwhelm you," she begins just as Alec opens his office door and motions to me.

"Baby, I gotta go. I'll call you before I leave, okay?"

"Okay—hey?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

I laugh again, I can't help it, because she doesn't often speak those words to me. "I love you, too."

"Okay, so..." Alec begins after I sit before him again, "his foster mother died in 2015, he's been in foster care ever since," he tells me what I already know.

"And he was fucking abused there!" I snap.

"That's unfortunately not an uncommon thing." He sighs.

"Why wasn't I given the option to take him in? For fuck's sake, I might not be perfect but at least he would have been safe!"

"You're not listed on his birth certificate as his father, Edward," he explains. "Community Services wouldn't have known to contact you."

"So...what do I have to do? Get a paternity test done?"

"It was done not long after he was born. You're definitely his father."

" _What_!?" I burst in immediate shock. "When?" But I know exactly when. In Year 12 Pop made me and Emmett get DNA tests. To protect us from obscure family members was his reasoning, and I'd bought completely into it; never once suspecting. "He made Emmett do one too so I wouldn't get suspicious," I mumble, scoffing dryly to myself. "Jesus..."

"Yes."

"Why wasn't he adopted by a stable family?" I demand. "He told Bella an older woman adopted him."

"The Mallory's took care of that part. She was their housekeeper, I believe."

"And his mother?"

"She signed away all parental rights to him after he was born."

"Let me guess—or she'd be disinherited?" I conclude sarcastically.

He only gazes at me, his expression softening in understanding, but he knows I don't need it explained to me. "For the meantime, would you like for me to apply for a temporary custody order?"

"Yes," I reply quietly, rubbing at my forehead again. I have no idea how this will affect me and Bella, but she's right. I can't abandon him. He's my responsibility now.

"Would you like a few days to discuss with Bella whether you're going to seek full custody?" he proposes.

I scoff again, ironically this time. "Apply for full custody. She'll never allow anything short of it."

He breaks into a smile and nods. "I'll take care it. I'm sorry it turned out this way, Edward."

"Yeah..." I mumble, shrugging a shoulder. "Thanks for your honesty."

"No worries. I'll get on it now," he says, extending his hand.

Rising to my feet, I take it. "There won't be any problems getting custody, will there?"

"No." He smirks as if the idea is ridiculous. "I'm fifty-seven to zero on custody, Edward, and a lot of those have been against the state. Plus, taking into account you're his biological father, as well as your financial situation, and that you and Bella are soon to be married, they're not going to waste resources by declining it."

"But...Bella's past..." I remind him.

"Leave it to me," he assures me. "Right now I want you to take him to hospital for a full medical evaluation. If there was indeed negligence and abuse, I will be holding the foster parents, as well as the department, to account."

"Okay, good." I nod, smiling subtly to myself.

"I'll arrange that now. I'll contact you soon to inform you of which doctor."

"Thanks, Alec."

"Talk to you soon, Edward."

After exiting his office I call Bella again.

"Hey, baby. I'm heading home now."

"Okay. Everything okay...?" she asks sounding uncertain.

"Yeah, it's all good. Get him ready, okay? We have to take him for a medical check."

"Good!" she says passionately. "Okay, he's already had a shower and I got him to put on clean clothes, but Christ, Edward..." she suddenly whispers. "His teeth. I don't think they've been brushed in years. He's full of cavities."

"Jesus..." I mutter. "Okay, we'll sort that out tomorrow. I'll be home in ten."

"Kay, handsome," she says warmly, and just as I hang up Jake calls.

"Hey, mate," he greets me. "You right...?"

"I know about him."

"It's nuts, right?"

"That's one way of putting it," I say ruefully. "Why didn't you call me?"

"Mate, Bella was always going to take it better than you." And he has a point. "You freaked by how much he looks like you?"

"Yeah..." I mumble, scoffing beneath my breath. Freaked isn't the right word, though.

"Sure you're okay?"

"Yeah—ask me in a few days."

He chuckles. "Something tells me he's exactly what the two of you need."

Alec calls me next just as I'm getting in my car. "Take him to St Vincent's, Edward. Doctor McCarty is expecting him."

"Dr McCarty, got it."

When I arrive home, Bella and Tyler are sitting at the dining table eating the Chinese food I'd brought home. He's clean, his hair still wet and neatly combed, and he's wearing a pair of pyjama's and a navy blue robe.

They both turn to me as I enter, Bella with a huge smile on her face, while Tyler immediately looks fearful and breaks my gaze.

"Come and meet him properly," Bella whispers in my ear, before planting her lips briefly to mine, then grabbing my hand she leads me into the kitchen.

"Tyler," she takes his hand and pulls him up from the table alongside her, "this is Edward. Edward," she turns to me and smiles warmly, "this is Tyler."

"Hey, Tyler," I greet him, extending my hand.

He looks up at me as if he's not sure what to do.

"It's okay," Bella encourages him, and reluctantly, like my hand's going to burn him, he takes it.

"Hi," he says so quietly I barely hear him.

I only gaze at him for a moment, not sure what the hell I'm supposed to do with him, when Bella subtly clears her throat and motions to him covertly with her eyes.

"Hey, Tyler...I'm sorry about earlier. It was a bit of a shock. I wasn't angry at you, though," I attempt to explain to him.

"See?" Bella says, nudging him, and he breaks into a timid smile.

He nods once, his eyes dropping to the floor. "O-okay..."

"Hey, show your dad your cool new shoes," she says to him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, and it takes a moment to realise she's referring to me.

"Oh, yeah, they're awesome, mate," I say glancing down at the red Converse he's wearing with his pyjamas. "Did Bella buy them for you?"

Christ, this is awkward.

"Yeah..." And turning to look up at her, he blushes.

"He's adorable, right?" Bella says, pulling him closer to her as his face burns redder.

"Erm...yeah..."

"Edward..." Bella suddenly whispers, throwing me a reproachful look.

" _What_?" I mouth before clearing my throat. "We'd better get going."

"Okay," Bella says simply, releasing her arm from around him to take his hand.

"Where are we going?" he whispers to her, looking suddenly anxious.

"To the doctors for a check-up, that's all, sweetie. I _promise_ ," she reassures him. "Maybe after we can stop off and get Yogurtland?"

He nods, smiling genuinely for the first time, and allows her to lead him to the car. It's obvious he already trusts her. I follow behind, pulling my keys from my pocket as Bella helps him in the back seat. She's clearly already taken by him, as much as he is by her, but then she tends to have that effect on people.

Dr McCarty sees him the moment we arrive, and the first thing he does after taking the three of us into the examination room is make the poor kid strip. He's skin and bones and covered in bruises, and he's conscious of every bit of it. Jesus, even the bloody doctor and accompanying nurse are horrified.

That's the moment it becomes real to be me, because I'm suddenly recognising myself in him. The way I once was, an abused and unloved kid, and that's when I get it. I've been a father since I was eighteen years old, and this poor kid, through no fault of his own, ended up just as screwed over as I was. All for doing nothing but being born a Cullen.

I swear my bloody family line is cursed. Maybe it's a good thing Bella can't have kids. Maybe we should just adopt one instead of attempting to have a biological child.

The instant Bella sees him, though, and realises the extent of the abuse he was subject to, she immediately sucks in her breath and bursts into tears. She attempts to hide it from him, but she fails, and in response, I pull her to me and enclose her in my arms.

"I'm sorry, baby," I whisper, feeling bloody culpable, and just as those two words are echoed by Tyler.

Bella and I both glance over at him, and he's staring at her, his eyes wide and full of anxiety as though it were his fault she's crying.

"Oh...it's not your fault, sweetie," Bella assures him, hastily pulling herself together and wiping her eyes. "I _promise_."

He gazes at me then, and there's not much I can do but nod my head and flash him a reassuring smile, silently reiterating her.

Every section of him is photographed, before he's weighed and measured as the nurse jots down the results on a chart and puts a hospital gown around him. He's underweight for an eleven year old kid the doctor informs us, as if it's not already obvious. After he arranges for him to be X-rayed, but not before he has to take blood. This is when Tyler loses it.

"Bella!" he cries as the nurse wraps the tourniquet around his arm, and pulling from me Bella sits beside him and cradles his head to her chest.

"Don't watch. Keep your eyes on me," she instructs him softly.

"Will it hurt?" he asks fearfully.

"Nooo, it will feel like a bindi," she promises him. "I've had dozens of them."

"Really?" he asks, gazing up her.

"Really," she insists.

"Tell me what sports you like to play, Tyler," the nurse asks him in an effort to distract him.

"Cr-cricket," he answers stammering, his eyes glued to Bella's and welling in tears.

She breaks into an encouraging smile. "Your dad likes cricket, too."

The nurse inserts the needle into his vein and he flinches, his tears spilling over.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Bella puts to him gently as his blood's drawn. She loves him already, I realise. She loves this kid who's not her own and it only makes me love her even more.

He squeezes his eyes closed and shakes his head.

"Maybe Edward will play cricket with you some time?" she speaks soothingly to him before glancing over at me.

"You like to bowl or bat, mate?" I ask him.

His eyes fly open and fix to mine. "B-Bat"

"You know your dad was captain of the cricket team in high school?" Bella informs him and his gaze, remaining on mine, almost sparks with curiosity.

I nod, validating it, and the smallest smile tugs on his lips as if maybe I'm not the deadbeat father he thinks I am. "I'm going to high school next year," he tells me and in reply I'm smiling before I'm aware of it.

After the X-ray, Dr McCarty sits me and Bella down while the nurse takes Tyler down the corridor to get him a drink.

After placing his glasses on the edge of his nose, he reads over his notes with his brow creasing deeply. "He's malnourished, and while he's tall for his age, he's only in the fifth percentile for his weight."

Bella huffs angrily. "What can we do for him?"

"Feed him up and give him a lot of love," he replies smiling at her.

"That we can do," she says grabbing my hand.

"You might want to see about getting him counselling," he advises.

"Yeah, that's a given," I mutter as Bella squeezes her fingers around mine.

"His X-ray also revealed three healed fractures. Unfortunately I can't state when they took place," he disclosed just as I drop my head into my palm and press my fingertips into my forehead.

Jesus, is there some kind of rule that a kid has to experience the same trauma as his father?

"You're not going to admit him, are you?" Bella asks, releasing my hand to grab my knee.

"No, I think the best thing for him is to sleep in a warm bed with people he trusts. His blood results will come in tomorrow. I'll inform you if there's anything to be concerned about."

"When can you send the report to Alec?" I ask.

"I'll send it off in the morning, as soon as his blood-work is back from pathology."

"So, can we take him home, now?" Bella puts to him, her tone rising in hope.

"You can take him home."

The doctor rises and shakes both mine and Bella's hand, and we leave. Tyler's sitting just outside the room with the nurse, and the moment we step through the door he jumps to his feet.

"Do I have to do anything else?" he asks Bella as she takes his hand.

"You sure do. You have to accompany me and your dad to Yogurtland."

He breaks into a toothy grin, and it's good to see he has teeth; even if half of them are rotten.

"You don't mind me referring to you as 'dad', do you?" Bella asks me after buckling Tyler in the backseat of the car.

"No," I say honestly, shaking my head subconsciously to myself by how crazy it all is. "It might take a bit of getting used to, though."

"Christ, what a day..." she suddenly scoffs to herself in disbelief. "Apart of me still feels like I'm dreaming."

"Hmm," I murmur in full agreement with her, opening the passenger side door for her and just as my phone rings.

It's Alec; the temporary custody order has been granted and I have to sign off on it.

"I'll drop you two off at Yogurtland while I sign the papers, okay, baby?" I propose after climbing in behind the steering wheel. "I shouldn't be too long."

"No worries," she says placing her palm to my face.

"The custody hearing's set for the 24th," Alec fills me in after handing me a folder full of legal documents, including Tyler's birth certificate and most of the paperwork that he had on file from Pop. "Department of Community Services have no problem awarding you custody. I've scheduled a meeting with them for the 18th. The judge will want to meet you and Bella, as well as Tyler, beforehand, though."

"Okay," I nod. "That easy?"

"That easy." He smirks, slapping my back. "Make sure you have him enrolled in school by then."

Tyler falls asleep in the car on the way home. I carry him inside, trying not to focus on how bloody light he is. He wakes not long after I lay him on the sofa, while Bella makes up the second one for him to sleep on.

"Can I go to the bathroom, Bella?" he asks, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Um, no you cannot. You can hold it in until your bladder explodes into a million pieces," she jokes with him and this time he grins. "Hurry up, you goofball."

"We need a bigger house," she says with a sigh after Tyler's out of earshot, tucking the sheet beneath the cushions. "I feel terrible he has to sleep on the lounge."

"He'll be okay," I assure her. "It won't be for too long."

"You sorry you sold the house?" she asks, glancing up at me.

"No," I say darkly. "I don't want him living there. He's not going to grow up thinking that's normal."

"I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen, handsome," she teases me.

"Bella..."

"Are you okay?" She straightens up and gazes at me seriously for a moment.

"Not really," I mutter.

"You going to be?" Her voice softens.

"Yeah," I admit. "With you beside me, I will."

She smirks, as Tyler staggers back in the room. "You're such a charmer."

I smile to myself, placing my hand on Tyler's head as he passes me. "I'm going to jump in the shower."

"Don't keep me waiting, handsome!" Bella calls after me.

By the time I'm done in the bathroom the house is quiet. Tyler is lying still on the lounge with Oppa curled up with him, and releasing an exhausted breath I push open the bedroom door.

"Did you say goodnight to him?" Bella asks me when I drop down on the bed beside her and drape my arm around her shoulders.

"He's asleep," I say pressing my face against the side of her's.

"Go and talk to him," she urges me, turning to plant her lips to mine.

"I...I don't know what to say to him." I pull back to properly gauge her.

She sighs heavily. "Seriously? Go and have a man-to-man with him. You do it all the time with Jake."

"...All right," I eventually concede, pulling myself to my feet again and heading to the door.

"Edward, Christ, put your robe on!" she exclaims in a near whisper, pointedly glancing down at my underwear. "You'll traumatise the poor kid."

Pulling on a pair of track pants begrudgingly, I walk back into the hall. After flicking the lights on, Tyler immediately stirs and glances back at me.

"Hey, mate," I say sitting on the lounge beside him and reaching out to scratch Oppa's head.

"Hey," he echoes me, sitting himself half up and gazing at me awkwardly.

"You okay sleeping here?"

"Yeah," he says simply and shrugs a shoulder.

"Do...do you want to live with Bella and me?"

His expression immediately brightens and he nods. "Yeah. I like Bella. She's pretty, and she called me _handsome_."

I chuckle shortly. "You'll have to get used to that."

He breaks into a smile, and in that one moment it completely transforms his entire face. That's when I notice it. He doesn't just _like_ Bella. He has a crush on her.

* * *

 **A/N: thanks for reading :)**


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: Happy mother's day to all the mums out there, and thank you of course, to Kimmie45 and Starry8. Love ya.  
Btw, if you want to anon troll - because I do have one special little stan who has quite an impressive investment in me - go ahead. Just know that I do edit them and add a reply. By all means, don't stop though. I find that kind of shit pretty therapeutic.  
** **Anywho, happy reading. I hope you all enjoy :)**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 41**

 **Bella.**

I have classes all morning the next day, so Edward makes the decision to take the day off.

I'm immensely proud of him already for stepping up, but then I never doubted him, and right now spending time with Tyler alone is the best thing for the both of them.

I leave just before nine while Tyler's still out cold on the lounge. Even in sleep he looks exhausted, and as long as I live I'll never get the sight of his thin little body battered and bruised out of my mind. For one horrible moment in time I thought I was looking at Edward, at the damage his mother had inflicted upon him, and I almost fell completely apart. It makes me bloody murderous just thinking about it, and I'm having trouble ridding myself from the resulting anxiety.

Edward walks me to my car, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and it's obvious his mind's drifting.

"Have fun," I say to him lightly, reaching up to plant my lips to his after he opened my car door for me.

"I'll take him to get his hair cut," he mumbles. "Bella..."

"Yeah?"

"One of Pop's apartments in the city is vacant. Alec told me last night. It's three bedrooms. We can move in there until we find something permanent, if you like."

I nod, distracted for a moment. "Okay... What school do you want to send Tyler to?"

"Public," he answers without hesitation, but it doesn't surprise me too much given handsome's aversion to elitism.

"Crown Street?" I suggest, because it's pretty much the only public school in the inner city.

He nods, his eyes falling to the ground. "Yeah..."

Crown Street Public School is a beautiful sandstone building that was once a congressional church, and I envied all the kids in my neighbourhood who went there. From Kindergarten to Year 6, my brothers and I went to SCEGGS; Charlie and Sam in the boy's charter and me in the girls. It was a horribly strict, phlegmatic, ridiculously elite private school where all the other miserable kids of our social standing attended.

When I started high school my parents sent me to board at Pymble Ladies' College, and that hell made SCEGGS feel like a holiday. I was bullied mercilessly, and ironically, by the grace of my asthma I only lasted six months before I was pulled and sent to Sydney Grammar.

Where I met Edward.

"But wait 'til after the holidays okay? Give him time to settle in," I add.

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing." He glances up at me and smiles, looking entirely too much like the smaller version of him asleep inside.

I return it and tug gently on his shirt. "I'll be home around one," I say, and christ, I'm getting emotional. I really don't want to leave either of them.

"Okay. When do you want to move into..." He leaves it unspoken.

"Straight away, I guess. We can't have him sleeping on the lounge."

He nods again. "I can get Alec to take care of it today, if you like."

"Of course you can, darling," I tease him because someone has to lighten the mood.

His smile pulls unevenly and his breath shoots from his nose as if he were on the verge of laughter, but he doesn't reproach me over it. "I was thinking..."

"What were you thinking?" I echo lightly, when he once more abandons it, and he appears uncertain.

"...Do you want to live closer to Sydney Uni?"

"South side?" I say almost vacantly. Christ, I knew he wasn't pro about living on the North Shore but I had no idea he wanted to move further south.

"Yeah," he half shrugs looking suddenly uncomfortable. "I mean, it's up to you."

"Well..." I begin, smoothing down his shirt, "if Tyler's going to Crown Street then maybe we can move to Surry Hills?"

A smile immediately warms his face. "Surry Hills is good."

Surry Hills is still inner city, but slightly removed from all the elitism of the Eastern Suburbs, and barely a five minute drive to uni. I'll be able to take the bus, and Tyler will be within walking distance to school. It'll mean Edward has more of a drive to work, though.

"We can sell my house and buy a terrace that's been brought back to life," I propose, and his smile is so infectious I'm fighting to hold off my own. "My mother always wanted to do that..."

"Okay, we'll do that," he murmurs, bringing both his hands to the sides of my face.

"Somewhere near the park," I add, stretching on my toes to kiss him. "I'm going to be late, handsome."

"All right." He releases me with a sigh, and it's obvious now he's nervous about being alone with Tyler. "We'll meet you at Hyde Park for lunch."

"Sounds good." I kiss him quickly one more time before pulling myself in the car and starting the engine.

I have three back to back lectures that finish at 12:30, and after boarding a bus from campus to the CBD, I call Edward.

"Hey, I'll be at St James in ten—how was today?" I ask a little too anxiously.

"Okay," he replies easily. "I took him to the dentist. Most of his cavities are in his baby teeth and they're nothing major. He got a filling in one of his molars and had his teeth cleaned."

"Oh, poor chicken. He didn't get any extracted, did he?"

"No—hang on, he wants to talk to you."

"Okay," I say and barely before the word leaves my lips Tyler's cheerful voice is greeting me down the receiver.

"Hey, Bella, are you coming back now?"

"I am. I'll be back in a few minutes. Did you have fun with your dad this morning?"

"Yeah, we rode on the ferry—I've never been on the ferry before—and then we had a milkshake after the dentist. Edward said I was brave and gave me some money."

 _Edward_... He calls Edward by his name and I'm not sure why that surprises me.

"Oh...wow. How much did he give you?"

"Twenty bucks!" he replies, the tone of his voice rising, and my heart melts for him.

"Well, you must have been super brave then."

"It didn't even really hurt, but anyway, then we went to Timezone and played Mario Kart, but Edward's better than I am."

"He's better than me, too." I laugh.

"Oh, and I got a haircut, too."

"Did you? I bet you look handsome."

"Bella..." he says shyly.

"You're too much like your father."

"You wanna talk to him again?" Tyler asks, and he sounds nothing like he did the day before. Edward must have really won him over.

"Sure."

"Okay, we'll be waiting by the fountain." Edward's deep, smooth voice breaks in.

"'Kay, see you soon."

I spot them immediately. They're sitting on the same bench Edward and I usually utilise when we meet for lunch. They're both looking down at what I quickly realise is Tyler's iPad, and as I get closer they appear to be playing some kind of game.

Edward notices me first. He glances up casually and meets my gaze as a warm smile brightens his face.

After nudging Tyler's shoulder to alert him to my presence he pulls himself up from the bench and approaches me.

"Hey, baby," he murmurs, planting his lips to mine briefly and taking my bag from my shoulder. "This kid talks almost as much as you do," he adds lightly against my ear.

I laugh just as _the kid_ in question moves before me, looking more freakishly like his father with his hair shorter. "Hi, Bella!"

"Hey, handsome," I greet him, bending slightly down to kiss his cheek. "You hungry?"

"Um...y-yeah," he stammers, flushing deeply, and it suddenly occurs to me that he reacted exactly like Alice did when she first met Edward. Tyler might have blue blood but he sure as hell wasn't raised that way.

"What do you feel like?" I ask him wrapping my arm around his shoulders.

"I don't mind," he replies in a mumble.

"Want to find a café?" I put the question to Edward, reaching out to grab his hand. "I need coffee."

"Do you want to go look at the apartment first?" he asks, that uncertainty flooding his expression again. "I got the keys from Alec this morning, and there should be a café inside the building."

"Okay. Whereabouts is it?"

"The Rocks," Edward mumbles, breaking my gaze momentarily, and as familiar as I've become with his body language, it's not exactly encouraging. I can only conclude it's some grotesquely posh penthouse, or something to that extent.

"Okay." I squeeze his hand in reassurance. It's ridiculously adorable how embarrassed Edward still is by his grandfather's wealth.

"Where are we going?" Tyler pipes up curiously.

"To look at our temporary home," I answer.

"Will I have my own room?" His tone brightens.

"Hm...we thought about putting you under the stairs like Harry Potter," I tease him and he grins broadly.

"Bella..."

"Come on," Edward says with a sigh, curling his arm around my shoulders as I take Tyler's hand.

The apartment isn't the penthouse, but it's not exactly far off. It's on the thirty-fifth floor, with east facing views of the Harbour Bridge and Opera House. It's ultra-modern, which is becoming evident was Carlisle Cullen's style, with an open plan and walls of windows offering almost panoramic views.

"Wow!" Tyler exclaims his palms and nose pressed to the glass wall as he peers out over the harbour. "Can I go out on the balcony?"

"No," Edward replies stiffly, but then handsome isn't exactly fond of heights. It's so high that even I feel like I might get vertigo living here. "It's only for a few months," Edward says apologetically to me as though he were moving us to the slums.

"Oh, handsome..." Grabbing his hands, I pull him to me. "You're adorable."

"Bella..." He sighs.

"Let him go outside. What can happen?" I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Wait, is that my furniture?" I pull back and glance around the open space. My lounge and dining furniture is all here looking ridiculously incongruous.

"Yeah, I got Alec to send movers this morning," he explains, turning to kiss my temple. "What...?"

"Where's Oppa?" I ask, feeling slightly dazed. It still surprises me that despite Edward living like he's a member of the working class, he definitely isn't.

"Your neighbour's watching him. Bella—what?" he repeats, sounding suddenly concerned.

"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "Christ, I feel dizzy already."

"I know. I hated coming here as a kid," he mutters. "We'll go house-hunting on the weekend."

By nightfall we're officially moved in. It happens so fast it makes my head spin, reminding me once again that Edward has a lot of power behind his last name. Not that he'd ever take advantage of it, or anything.

As well as my furniture, Edward arranged for his bed and dresser—that he'd left at his grandfather's house in Neutral Bay—to be brought to the apartment for Tyler to use. Until we can get him his own, that is. For things like extra sheets and blankets, Edward asked the concierge to pick them up, while tipping him generously to overlook Oppa's presence. But he's not comfortable with any of it, and if his expression isn't proof enough, his excessive apologies are.

"Are you rich, Edward?" Tyler asks him innocently after we sit down for dinner. Edward ordered in Italian while I was unpacking.

Edward pauses and glances up at him, awkwardly clearing his throat. "My grandfather was rich," is how he decides to explain. "This is his apartment."

"Your _great_ -grandfather," I add, attempting to sway Tyler off the topic.

"But you're not rich?" Tyler presses, tilting his head as if to contemplate it.

"No," Edward answers in a quiet voice, shoving a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.

In reply Tyler turns his eyes to me; he's confused but not enough to push it. I shake my head in silent answer, flashing him a reassuring smile, before grabbing Edward's knee under the table. We'll explain his father's situation to him one day, but it's not a priority at the moment.

"Can we go to the museum tomorrow, Bella?" Tyler asks me when I'm tucking him into bed later that night.

"Sure," I say simply. I have an early lecture in the morning and Edward's going to work, so we asked Jake to watch Tyler until I'm back.

"Dad's scared of heights, isn't he?" he puts to me breaking into a small smile.

"A little bit," I answer, placing my index finger to my lips when Tyler almost laughs. "Why don't you call him _Dad_ , anyway? Don't you want to just yet?"

He half shrugs. "He asked me what I wanted to call him and I didn't know what to say, so he said I can call him Edward."

"Do you want to call him Dad?"

He pauses for a moment before nodding; his expression becoming as uncertain as Edward's often is. "Will you ask him?"

"Of course I will," I promise him, bending down to kiss his forehead. "You want me to leave the hall light on?"

"Yeah." He nods.

"Okay. Night, handsome."

"Night, Bella."

"He's gone to bed already?" Edward asks, drying his wet hair after I step out of the room.

"Yeah," I whisper, pulling him into our bedroom. Everything is so white and bare, and my furniture really doesn't suit such a contemporary design. I'm already seeing it from Edward's perspective; there's nothing cosy about it, at all.

"What?" he puts to me confused.

"He wants to call you Dad," I relay to him softly after closing the door behind us.

"Oh," Edward mumbles, a smile twitching at his lips. "He can if he wants to."

"Go and tell him," I urge him, and while I have a shower and get ready for bed he and Tyler talk.

They're still chatting away after I get out. In fact, I can hear them laughing together, so deciding to give them more time, I take Oppa down to the street. I end up walking him up and down Harrington Street in my pyjama's waiting for him to get acclimatised to the sound of the traffic while he contemplates which grated Birch tree he likes best.

It's close to eleven when we return, and the apartment's finally quiet. I sneak back into Tyler's room only to find him and Edward both asleep on Edward's old king sized bed. Edward's above the covers, and grabbing one of the blankets the concierge had brought up earlier, I carefully wrap it over him before returning to the master bedroom.

Oppa and I sleep alone with the sound and lights of the city nightscape infiltrating the sheer curtains. I don't like it, and I already miss my quiet little house that held me and Edward so comfortably. In a matter of two days our lives have changed so dramatically I can scarcely wrap my head around it. And while I already love Tyler, more than I thought I could ever feel, the idea of having him in my life scares me. He scares me the same way Edward once did; the way Edward still does.

I understand where it stems from now. At least, in context anyway. Opening my heart to both of them also leaves me open to the worst kind of pain imaginable if I inevitably lose them. I have twice as much to love now, but twice as much to lose, and it's a fear I know will never fully go away.

Edward makes his way into our room sometime during the early hours, and when he crawls in beside me I immediately turn and cocoon myself against his chest.

"Why didn't you wake me, baby?" he mumbles, wrapping his arms around me and cloaking me in his warmth.

"I didn't want to disturb you," I reply, peeling his t-shirt over his head to press myself against his naked skin.

"Are you cold?" he asks, encircling his arms tighter around my trembling body.

"Just hold onto me," I plead with him, pushing my face further against him.

"Bella..." His voice lowers with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I answer even as my voice wavers, and I know I'll have to further explain myself. Dr Jenk's orders, but I don't like keeping Edward in the dark anymore. "It's just a lot to process. It happened so fast—Edward, if we move to Surry Hills you're going to be on the bridge every day for work."

His breath gushes from him in obvious understanding. "Baby, nothing's going to happen to me."

"You don't know that!" I insist.

"I _do_ know that," he says stubbornly. "You survived for me, remember?" he reminds me against my ear, his voice turning tender. "Nothing's going to happen."

"Promise me anyway," I whisper, my voice softly breaking.

"I promise, you goose," he teases me gently before rolling his weight over me and planting his lips to my neck. "You want to christen this shitty apartment?" he murmurs against my flesh.

"Christ, yes," I reply, my breath gushing from me. Three days without him is far too long, but with Tyler in the house now spontaneous sex is no longer an option for us.

"What were you two talking about for so long?" I ask a few moments after Edward pulls his hot, sweaty body from mine as we both come down.

"Hm...we were playing Monopoly on his iPad," he explains, his breath pushing from his nose in silent laughter. "He beat me."

"Does he call you _Dad_ now?" I turn and rest my chin against his shoulder.

"Not really. He's pretty shy about it."

"He's a sweetheart," I say smiling to myself.

"You know what he told me?" he adds turning to press his nose and lips to the side of my head, amusement clearly in his tone.

"What?" I venture curiously.

"If I don't treat you right he's going to marry you." He laughs beneath his breath.

"Oh my god... He's so adorable."

"Just be careful with him, baby," Edward cautions me, his tone becoming slightly more sedate. "He doesn't exactly see you as mother material right now."

"If he saw me that way he wouldn't like you, at all, but he looks up to you already."

"Yeah..." Edward mumbles. "He's a good kid. He's a lot more resilient than I was."

I turn to face him, propping my elbows against his chest. "He spent eight years with a woman who loved and cared for him before he was placed in that environment, Edward," I point out delicately. "You never had that."

"Hmm..." he hums, sounding like he's drifting off to sleep again. "You know how much he talks?" he adds after a pause. "He talked my ear off all morning a mile a minute."

I laugh softly. "I'm starting to gather that."

"Are we going to tell him?" he mutters after a moment.

"Tell him what?"

"That we know his mother."

I release my breath heavily. "Christ, that's a hard one. He thinks she's dead..."

"Maybe when he's older," Edward concludes, then groaning sleepily he rolls me over with him.

 **. . .**

"Bella..." Tyler's voice softly penetrates the shroud of sleep that lingers over me.

Moaning softly, I roll to my back, my eyes slowly opening. "What's up, sweetie?" I mumble. He doesn't answer and it takes me a moment to realise why. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah," he stammers, his eyes wide and glued to my...breasts.

"Christ!" I burst, yanking the blankets up over my chest and waking Edward up in the process. "Sweetie, you have to knock first."

"Jesus Christ, Tyler, you can't just walk in!" Edward hollers, and immediately fearful, Tyler turns and flees the room. "Shit..." he mutters.

I pull myself upright, continuing to clutch the blankets to my chest and groaning in amusement. "Well, that was bloody awkward," I say, resting my cheek against my propped knees to face Edward.

He breaks into a reluctant grin, pushing his hair back off his forehead. "Yeah..."

"Go and talk to him, Mr Intimidation."

"You're not leaving this one on me," he says lightly, breaking into a small grin.

"Okay," I say wryly, stretching my hands and yawning before reaching to the foot of the bed to grab my robe.

We find Tyler in his room, sitting on the middle of Edward's old bed, his knees tucked to his chest.

"I'm sorry!" he says tearfully when we enter, and it's not that he's upset, it's that he's genuinely fearful. And as we come closer he not so subtly cowers away from both of us.

"Sweetie," I appeal to him gently, but Edward acts far more impulsively.

Reaching over he pulls Tyler off the bed to his feet. Tyler gasps, his eyes widening further in fear as Edward engulfs him against his chest.

"You're not in trouble," Edward reassures him. "Okay...?"

Tyler nods jerkily while the panic behind his eyes slowly begins to calm. "Okay," he echoes in a small voice.

"I used to get the crap beat out of me, as well," Edward continues, grabbing his shoulders and easing him back to meet his gaze, "so, I can promise you one thing." Tyler nods again, hastily reaching up to wipe away his tears. "Me, or Bella...we'll never lay a finger on you. Okay?"

"Okay," Tyler mumbles, his shoulders visibly relaxing as a small smile tugs on his lips.

"Just remember to knock next time," Edward adds wryly, messing up Tyler's already chaotic bed hair.

"Okay, I will," he says, the quiver vacating his voice as his eyes rise to meet mine. "Sorry, Bella."

I wave my hand dismissively. "It's no problem. You get taught sex-ed in sixth grade, don't you?"

Tyler's expression turns blank while Edward drops his face into his out stretched palm and groans. "Jesus, Bella..."

"What?" I say innocently, hooking my elbow around Tyler's neck. "Let's get breakfast."

"So, I was thinking," Edward mumbles, leaning up against the stone counter in the kitchen as he sips his coffee.

"What were you thinking, handsome?" I reply, scraping butter over my toast noisily beside him.

"We should introduce him to my brother—and yours."

I glance up at him and pause. "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."

"Shall we invite them here, or have dinner out or something?"

"Here. It might be bit awkward in public," I suggest. "Just warn Emmett beforehand in case he mentions"—I deliberately drop the tone of my voice—" _you know who_."

"Yeah," Edward says quietly in agreement, his eyes darting to Tyler who's munching on his cereal, completely distracted by his iPad. "Tomorrow night?"

"Sounds good," I say simply.

Along with Emmett, Jasper and Alice, we invite Jake and Ness, as well. Ness hasn't formally met Tyler either, and Jake's incredibly good at keeping Edward calm.

Jasper arrives first, and after opening the door and greeting him and Alice, I grab his elbow and drag him to the spare bedroom.

"Holy shit, Bella, this place has to cost a fortune!" Jasper exclaims, his wide eyes pulling out toward the Opera House. "Why'd you move?"

"It's just temporary. We're not living here permanently, or anything," I answer quickly, jerking a shoulder because it's irrelevant. "Anyway, that's not why we invited you here."

When Jasper's eyes meet mine again they're burning with sudden curiosity. "What's going on? You knocked up?"

"You idiot!" I burst, immediately losing patience. "Did you forget that's bloody impossible?"

"Sorry, Bells," he apologises sheepishly.

I expel my breath brashly and shake my head. "You're on the right track, at least," I mutter, "but you have to promise me something."

"...What?" he asks tilting his head.

"No judgements or smart arse comments." I'm serious. "Or I'll throw you over the balcony."

He grins that lopsided grin of his when he's not taking a thing seriously. "All right..." he drawls.

" _Jasper_!" I warn him.

"Okay, _I promise_ ," he relents, his smile broadening. "What's going on?"

"Edward...Edward got a girl pregnant in high school," I begin, knowing already how it sounds. "Anyway, he only just found out, and he's—his son, I mean—has come to live with us."

Jasper's expression immediately turns vacant in obvious shock. "Holy shit!"

"It's not what you're thinking, so don't even _think_ about going there," I threaten him.

"Okay, it's all good," he replies, but he's unable to wipe the smirk from his face.

"You're already starting to piss me off!" I snap, forcing my voice to a whisper.

He laughs this time and raises his palms toward me. "I'm kidding, Bella. _Promise_."

"Okay," I say, but I'm still unconvinced, "but if you're smart you won't even entertain the idea of pushing Edward."

"I won't." And he has the decency to pull himself together.

"All right," I mumble, opening the door to return to the living room; Jasper follows close behind.

Emmett has already arrived. He's standing frozen in the lounge room several feet opposite Edward and Tyler, his mouth on the floor.

"Jesus Christ," he eventually utters, the shock obvious in his tone, "he looks exactly like Pop!"

"He looks exactly like _Edward_ ," Rose corrects him, bringing my attention to her just as my breath draws on absolute impulse.

Rosalie and Lauren were _BFF_ s in high school, and if the social pages are anything to go by, they still are.

* * *

 **Beta note for all those non Australians of the north American kind: *CBD—the Sydney central business district, also referred to as "Town" or "the** **City". The main commercial centre of Sydney and the most populous city in** **Australia.**

* * *

 **A/N: thanks for reading.**


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N: I finished this story a couple of days ago. 45 chapters all up. Only three to go after this one. It happened so fast I'm not sure how I feel yet. I have 8 chapters of a new story I'm currently in the process of writing. It's going to be light and humourous after all this angst. Promise.  
Thanks Kimmie45 and StarryEyedWriter8. Love you girls.  
Anywho, I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 42**

 **Edward.**

"What the fuck were you thinking bringing her here!?" I demand after dragging Emmett into the laundry and slamming the door shut behind us. I'm fighting to keep my voice hushed, but I'm so pissed off I'm on the verge of throwing them both out.

"Well, how was I supposed to know you invited us over to introduce your kid," is Emmett's defence.

"I invited _you_ , not that bimbo you're fucking—Jesus fucking Christ, Emmett!" I snap, dragging my fingers back through my hair. "What part of _family_ don't you understand!?"

"Sorry, mate," he replies, having the decency to sound sincere, "but you should have warned me. I wasn't exactly expecting this."

"She's friends with... _his mother_ ," I emphasise my point and dropping my voice to a whisper.

"She isn't," he immediately counters. "She hasn't been friends with her for years. I mean, they're usually at the same venues, but other than that..."

"You just tell her to keep her fucking trap shut. If she breathes one word of this to that bitch I'll send Alec after her so fast she won't know what hit her!" I warn him, and I'm deadly serious. I will.

"Would you calm down?" Emmett says, beginning to sound impatient.

"Calm down?—He thinks his mother's dead," I relay to him as my brother's expression morphs into surprise.

"Jesus..." he mutters. "She signed away her rights, then?"

"As soon as he was born."

"Then she can't do anything, so stop stressing," he attempts to reason with me.

I jerk a shoulder, regardless. "I don't want her knowing anything about him. Where he lives, or goes to school— _nothing_!"

He nods, hanging his head and putting his hands on his hips. "Okay." He sighs. "I'll have a word with her."

"What the hell are you still doing screwing around with her? She's only interested in your money—you know that, right?" I shouldn't have to point out the obvious, but then, he's never brought her directly into our family circle before

He smirks. "She offered to sign a pre-nup."

"Oh, Jesus." I roll my eyes.

"I don't know..." He shrugs. "She comes across as pretty pretentious and all that, but beneath the surface she's a decent person. Not that you can tell from looking at her."

"I'll take your word for it," I mutter sarcastically

"Anyway," he shrugs again, snapping himself out of it, "congrats on the strong Cullen genes, mate." He slaps me on the shoulder. "If I didn't know better I'd swear Pop had you cloned."

I laugh completely without humour. "Tell me about it."

"It gives me hope that my son will look just as much like me," he says.

"... _Your_ son? Is Rose...?" I'm horrified, because a pre-nup my arse. Rosalie's too cunning to let that stop her.

"Nah, but I'd like to have kids soon, you know?"

"You probably already do," I say dryly. "If I knocked up the first one I was ever with, by rights you should have ten of them."

He flashes me a shrewd grin. "I was smart enough to safeguard myself. Anyway, he looks underfed. What's the story?"

"The story is he's spent the last three years in the same hell I lived through," I answer in a quiet voice as Emmett clears his throat awkwardly. We might have been kids, but he still carries a lot of guilt over what our mother made him do. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that..." I amend, softening my voice; immediately remorseful.

"It's okay," he murmurs, dropping his eyes to the floor momentarily. "How long are you staying here?—I thought you hated this place?"

"We needed a place straight away," I explain. "And just until we can find somewhere in Surry Hills."

" _Surry Hills_?" he echoes in disbelief. "You're not going to live in Pop's house?"

"I sold it."

" _What_?—I thought you were keeping—"

"I changed my mind, and it's done now, anyway." I shake my head. I'm not going to justify any of my actions, and I know it'll only embarrass Jake and Ness.

"So, you're not sending him to Sydney Grammar?" he asks, changing course, and it's obvious he's confused; I only laugh bitterly.

"Are you going to send your kids there?"

"Hm...I mean there's a lot of arseholes who send their kids there but it's still one of the best schools in the state."

"That's bullshit, Emmett. It hasn't been able to compete academically with agricultural schools for years now. It's the _most expensive_ school in the state, but that's about it."

"Yeah, you're right, you know..."

"Forty grand a year to think that shit is normal? Fuck that," I mutter.

"So, you sending him state side?"

"Yep."

"In Surry Hills?"

"Yeah."

"You know Surry Hills is still pretty yuppie, though, right?"

"Compared to the Eastern Suburbs?" I quirk my brow at him and he smirks.

"Fair point."

"And _Yuppie_? Mate, you live in Balmain!" I remind him.

"They think I'm an outsider." He laughs lightly and winks, and in reply I scoff.

"I'm not sure what the hell Pop was thinking sometimes..."

"Me either, but I would have suffocated in some white-collared job. I've got too much of our old man in me." He nudges me. "Between the two of us, you were always the Cullen."

"I just look like one," I correct him, and he snorts.

"What does Bella call you? Mr Intense Eyes? You're like him, all right. That's why he preferred you."

"What are you on about? He had no preference."

"I'm not saying he wasn't good to me, because he was, but he just naturally understood you. I was blue-collared from birth." He smirks again, and I roll my eyes.

"I was too screwed up to be anything like him."

"Screwed up or not, you still used to scare me," he admits pretty candidly.

" _What_?" I say sceptically, immediately dismissing him. "Come on..."

He shakes his head. "Remember when we were about...nine or ten, and you told me I'd better sleep with one eye open because you were going to kill me?"

"Yeah," I say quietly. I remember it well, and at the time if I could have found a way around it I probably would have at least attempted it.

"I believed you. I was scared shitless for months. You had that same calculating look in your eyes that Pop used to have. You still get it."

I scoff again, but I'm not sure I believe him. I was always the helpless one; the scrawny kid who she always kept down. "Have you...ever seen her?" I put the question to him uncertain whether I want to hear the answer.

"Yeah, she tracked me down a few years ago. About a year after Pop died," Emmett replies, rubbing the back of his neck and looking suddenly uncomfortable.

"Yeah...?"

"Yeah, she fed me this whole sob story about how Pop had cut her off and she was destitute, and that she was really sorry about the past. I asked Alec and he told me Pop had left her a couple of million but she squandered it all and had racked up debts. Last I heard she moved to Perth. She ever contact you?"

"She's not stupid enough to contact me," I say darkly.

"See—there it is, _right there_!"

"Where's...what?" I ask confused.

"That look Pop used to have. Mate, if we grew up like most of the kids at Sydney Grammar you would have been just as ruthless as he was."

I snort completely unconvinced. "I guess it's a good thing she screwed us both over then, isn't it?"

"Or that Pop had a religious experience," he says in agreement, just as the laundry door bursts open.

It's Bella.

"Okay, christ, another thirty seconds of listening to Rose talk about her new _Hermes Birkin_ and I'm going to throw her over the balcony," she says lightly, but I can tell from the frustrated look in her eyes that she's not fully joking. "What are you two talking about?"

"Nothing. We're coming now," I reply, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and leading her back out. "What's Tyler doing?"

"Jazz is entertaining him," she says wryly.

"Jesus," I mutter, because her brother's the last person I want in his head.

When I catch sight of Tyler, though, and the expression on his face, I almost laugh out loud. Whatever Jasper's saying to him Tyler's reacting as though he's been smoking crack.

That is until Bella rescues him, and that's when I notice it; she's in love with him already. Something's changed in her; something I was powerless to bring out in her. That hole she needed to fill that Jake pointed out several months back? Tyler's rapidly filling it, and he's making Bella completely come alive. It's been less than a week and I'm seeing a side of her that I've never known before.

The piece of her that was missing? It was Tyler.

 **. . .**

Two weeks later we have mediation with the state run bureaucrats who were responsible for Tyler the previous two and a half years. Bella's required to be present, and she completely loses her shit. We're barely ten minutes into the questionnaire they insist on both me and Bella answering, when her patience severs.

"You've got some bloody nerve demanding _anything_ of us when your _criminal negligence_ led to Tyler being forced into systematic abuse!" she snaps, her palms slamming to the table as she lunges to her feet.

"Bella..." I say quietly, as the three social workers only turn to gaze uncomfortably from me to Alec, and back to Bella.

"We're just following protocol," one of them answers with more than an obvious hint of patronising in her tone.

" _Protocol_?" Bella immediately echoes sarcastically. "Did you follow _protocol_ with the people you placed Tyler with?" she demands, holding her hand out to silence them before they can get the chance to answer. "Let me guess—of _course_ you didn't. That would require even a minimal amount of professionalism on your part."

"Bella..." I repeat with a sigh this time, while beside me Alec snorts just barely beneath his breath.

"Here's what's going to happen," Bella continues on, completely ignoring me and pointing her finger directly at the head of the three women before us. "You're going to have no objections to Tyler being placed into his father's care, because if you do, I'll send my lawyer after you. And if you think Alec's scary, you won't want to find yourself in court against mine."

"Who's...your lawyer," the supervising DoCS worker decides to call her bluff, but while she obviously wants to come across as assertive the slight quiver to her voice completely undermines her.

"Marcus Denali," Bella replies, half a smirk lighting up on her face just as the woman turns five shades paler. With good reason. Marcus is infamous for not only making sure offending public servants find themselves out of a job after he's done with them, but also penniless.

The woman clears her throat while the other two, who sit on either side of her, squirm nervously in their seats. "I'm sure we can come to an understanding."

"We're not answering another question!" Is Bella's final demand as I grab her wrist and coax her back into her seat.

"Ms Dwyer's correct," Alec speaks up. "Under the circumstances, there's nothing to justify subjecting my client to an interrogation. He's not on trial. Your actions, however, should be under federal investigation," Alec issues a veiled threat and the three of them officially sign off on Tyler's case, and exit.

"You're pre-med, didn't you say, Bella?" Alec asks her a moment later.

"Yeah," Bella replies, her forehead knotting slightly in confusion.

"Pity..." he replies with a small smirk.

I sigh. "Is the court date still set for the next week?"

"Yes," Alec answers. "10am, don't be late. The judge assigned gets testy with tardiness."

"We won't be late," I say quietly.

"Those incompetent idiots aren't going to be there, are they?" Bella asks, huffing.

"No," he answers, his grin reappearing. "Is he enrolled in school?" he puts the question to me.

"Yeah, he starts this Tuesday."

"Good. The judge will want to speak to him, and the two of you. It'll be pretty straightforward," he reiterates what he's already explained to me.

As it turns out, the judge was once a colleague of Bella's old man.

The three of us assemble in the small family law chamber before him, and for the first fifteen minutes he enquires after Bella and offers his repeated condolences. Bella, of course, immediately wins him over, and his entire demeanour changes. He chats with Tyler, who's wearing an almost identical suit to mine—Bella bought them both—with a broad grin on his face. He barely speaks two words to me, but he has no concerns about awarding me permanent custody, or fast-tracking Bella's application for adoption.

"It's official, handsome," Bella says to Tyler the minute we leave, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. "I'm now your evil _step-mother_."

Tyler laughs. "You're not evil, Bella."

"If anyone hurts you, I'll be _really_ evil," she promises him, her tone light, but behind those dark brown eyes of hers she's deadly serious.

In response Tyler blushes and glances up at her again. "Do I call you 'Mum'?"

"If you want to," Bella replies.

His head tilts for a moment in contemplation before he answers, "That's okay. I like 'Bella'."

"I like Bella, too," I add, placing my hand on top of his head and grinning.

Bella turns to me and grabs my hand, a smile immediately warming her face. "Two ridiculously handsome men in my life—I feel like I've won the lottery."

That afternoon we take Tyler to Luna Park to celebrate. It was Tyler's idea. He and Bella go on all the rides together as I stay firmly put on the ground and watch. After the fifth time on the rollercoaster, though, Tyler gets sick, and Bella just manages to get him to the fence where he pukes his guts up into the harbour.

"I told you he was going to get sick," I say frustrated as Tyler turns his pasty face to Bella and breaks into a huge grin.

"That's the most fun I've ever had in my life!"

"See, worrywart—"she nudges me, wiping Tyler's face with a wet wipe—"he's fine."

"You feeling okay, mate?" I ask him.

He nods. "I just got dizzy for a second. Can we go again?" He turns to Bella.

Bella opens her mouth to no doubt agree, when I put my foot down. "No!" I state firmly, and Tyler pouts.

"But—"

"No buts," I cut him off.

"Bella...?" He immediately glances up at her, expecting her to overrule me.

" _Tyler_ ," I begin more forcefully, but Bella heads me off.

"Your dad said 'no', sweetie," she says gently.

"But—" he continues to push, when it's her who interjects this time.

" _But_ , Mr Whiny Pants, we have to have dinner. If you play your cards right, we might get McDonald's again."

" _Really_?" His tone quickly changes, and I'm hoping the novelty for McDonald's wears off soon because I'm over it already.

"Really," Bella says, glancing up at me and smirking. She's definitely thinking the same thing.

"Can I have a McFlurry, again?" he asks her, and in emphasis her eyes shift to me.

"Edward?" He turns to me, immediately catching on. It's been a month and he still won't call me _Dad_ , but I'm okay about it. I'm not going to push him.

"Okay," I relent with a sigh, reaching out to grab Bella's hand. "Let's go."

We catch the ferry back into the city and go to the McDonald's closest to our apartment; in The Strand Arcade on George Street. Tyler wants to eat inside, and while Bella lines up to order, the two of us go searching for a place to sit.

"Hey," I say after he slides in opposite me at an end booth. He always sits opposite me; he knows Bella will sit beside him if he does.

"Yeah?" he replies.

"If I tell you something, mate, even if you don't like it, you can't put Bella on the spot and expect her to undermine me. You can't do that to her."

"Oh..." he mumbles, his expression falling. "Is she mad at me?"

I break into a small smile because I'm not sure it's possible for Bella to get mad at him right now. "No."

"Really?" His eyes light up with hope, and it's obvious he'd be devastated if she ever was.

"She's not mad," I promise him.

"Are you mad?" he ventures.

"No, I'm not mad."

"But you look mad," he says, eyeing me sceptically.

"Do I?" I smirk.

"Yeah," he replies, his expression beginning to mirror mine. "That's why Bella calls you Mr Intensity, isn't it?"

I snort beneath my breath; he's already catching on. "That's why she calls you _Mr Chatterbox_."

He laughs. "What shall we call her?"

"Miss Blunt."

"What does 'blunt' mean?"

"It means she says whatever comes into her head without thinking about it."

"Oh... What about...Miss Grabber?"

It's me who laughs this time. "Definitely Miss Grabber. What about Miss persuasive?"

"Miss Kisses-you-in-front-of-everyone."

"Does that make you uncomfortable?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "No. You know what this kid is my class said yesterday?"

"What?"

"He said my mum's hot," he answers, grinning broadly as if he were proud of it.

"Jesus..." I say beneath my breath.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Why was she crying last night?"

" _What_? When last night?"

"After I went to bed, I heard her crying and she sounded weird."

"Erm..." I clear my throat awkwardly. "She...had a nightmare," I scramble for an excuse.

"Oh..." he says simply, and he sounds convinced, thank christ. "What about Miss _Darling_."

I laugh again. "Miss Likes-to-call-us-handsome."

"Miss Asks-Oppa-questions," he reciprocates, and the kid has definitely caught on.

"Miss Says-christ-all-the-time."

Tyler's giggling uncontrollably by this point and attracting the attention of most of the people around us. "Miss You're- _so_ -adorable."

"Miss What-side-of-stupid-street-do-you-think-I-walked-down?" I add with a smirk, and Tyler's really cracking up.

"Miss Yelled-at-a-man-on-the-street-and-made-him-sweat," he says when he gets a hold of himself.

"Miss Talks-as-much-as-you."

"I don't talk that much," he protests.

"You reckon?"

He only flashes me an unconvinced eyebrow before he goes back to contemplating names for Bella. "Miss Cooks-nice-breakfasts-but-horrible-dinners."

I almost choke because he's dead-on. "Don't tell her that."

"I won't."

"Miss Leaves-her-clothes-everywhere."

Miss...Kind-of-looks-sad-sometimes," Tyler adds, his voice softening and sounding suddenly distracted.

I immediately pause. Bella still has her down days, but she's getting better every day. Especially now that Tyler's come along.

"Miss Means-the-world-to-me," I eventually respond.

"Miss I'm-glad-she's my-mum."

"Miss...Jesus...What-would-I-do-without-her..."

Miss—she's coming!" Tyler pulls up short and turns fully to Bella.

"What were you boys talking about?" she asks, placing the tray of food down on the table before us.

"We were thinking up names to call you," Tyler answers candidly, and before I can warn him against it.

"Oh? What did you decide on?" She sits down beside him, handing him his cheeseburger and chips.

I clear my throat subtly and covertly shake my head. Tyler only shakes his in return. It's obvious he's unsure of my meaning, and Bella notices the exchange between us.

"Edward thinks Miss Blunt, but I think Miss Grabber," he says, turning back to her.

She laughs lightly and grabs his chin. "You're adorable. You two, handsome," she says to me.

Tyler giggles again, while I fight the urge to laugh along with him.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing," Tyler says, unwrapping his burger and taking a huge bite. "What was the nightmare you had last night, Bella?" he asks after swallowing.

"...The nightmare...?" she says blankly, and after deliberately clearing my throat again she turns her confused gaze to me.

"He heard you crying after we went to bed...and after you had that _nightmare_ ," I raise my brows in emphasis and she immediately catches on.

" _Oh_. I dreamed I was falling—from the balcony," she quickly improvises, wiping his hair back off his forehead with her fingers.

"Sometimes I have that dream," Tyler pipes up. "You can come and sleep in my room if you get scared."

"I might just do that, sweetie pie."

"Bella..." he murmurs

"Miss Makes-Tyler-blush," I say with a grin.

"Hm?" Bella hums in question.

"Miss Makes-Edward-drool," Tyler immediately retorts.

Right now it feels normal for him to call me by my name, and Bella warned me not to react too surprised when he finally calls me the "D" word. When he does though, I barely register it.

 **. . .**

Two months later and we still haven't found a house. The Market's depleted and there's nothing that suits us. They're either too small or already renovated in a style Bella hates.

"Why the hell would anyone renovate a one-hundred-and-fifty year old terrace in a contemporary style!" she exclaims with impatience at the next open house we attend, and not caring that everyone in the near vicinity hears her.

"Bella..." I lean down and murmur to her, as the real estate agent only sighs.

"Come on—ugh!" She groans, grabbing my arm. "This is a hopeless situation."

"We'll get back to you," I say over my shoulder to the realtor. "Tyler, let's go."

"This house is creepy," he adds, following close behind.

"When you describe a house as 'renovated', be sure to mention whether it's been renovated in keeping with the original architecture—christ!" Bella screeches to the second agent we pass by the front entrance as Tyler snickers to himself.

He finds Bella's bluntness and lack of tact hilarious. I can't say I always feel the same way.

Bella's frustrated; she doesn't like living in the city, and not for the same reasons as me. With Tyler at school and with me working on the north side of the bridge, Bella has to drive him. The shuttle bus to and from the university campus doesn't go anywhere near his school, so it's out of the question. That leaves her on the roads three times longer than when she lived in Crow's Nest; which means Tyler's in the car with her. She hates that more than anything.

"Why don't you catch a taxi, baby?" I suggest the following Monday morning when it's clear her tolerance for driving is wearing thin, and in response she stares at me like I've lost my mind.

"A taxi?" she repeats in disbelief. "I hate sitting in the back seat, Edward!—or have you forgotten?"

"Christ, I'm sorry," I immediately apologise, pulling her into my arms, because I did forget. "It won't be for long," I promise her. "We'll find something soon."

"If it was just me I wouldn't care..." she mumbles against my shirt.

"Hey," I say abruptly, knowing exactly where she's going, " _nothing's_ going to happen."

"You don't know that," she says, pulling back to meet my eyes while hers well with tears.

"Lightning doesn't strike the same place twice."

"Sometimes it does."

"Bella..."

"I'm okay," she says hastily, quickly pulling herself together and wiping her eyes.

Tyler's coming.

He pauses the moment he sees her, his face flooding with concern. "Are you okay, Bella?"

"I'm fine, sweetie. Are you ready?"

"Yeah." He's not convinced, but then either am I.

"Hey," I say, drawing her against me again. "Call me after you get to uni, okay?"

"Okay," she replies, nodding and stretching up to kiss my lips briefly. "Have a good day, handsome." She sounds jaded.

"Love you," I mumble against her ear.

"Love you, too."

Jesus, sometimes it's better when she doesn't say it.

She calls me just before 9 am to let me know she's arrived.

"Sorry, handsome," she says with a sigh.

"Why are you sorry?"

"For being such a Debbie-downer this morning."

"It's fine, you goose. How was Tyler this morning?" He's missed so much school over the last two years he's fallen behind, and kids can be little arseholes. He's already getting shit.

"Good. Christ, he cracks me up, and he talks so much he distracts me from most of it."

"That's good," I say, smothering my laugh through my nose. He talks, all right; he talks _a lot_.

"Okay, gotta go. I'll see you this afternoon."

"Okay, baby. I'll bring home dinner."

"Seriously, handsome, I'm beginning to suspect you don't like my cooking!"

For the next couple of weeks it becomes our routine; Bella calling me after arriving on campus. It calms her down and allows me to get through the day without worrying about her. Still, finding a house in Surry Hills doesn't seem to be working, and I'm not sure how much longer she can hold out.

 **. . .**

"Hey, baby, how was your drive?" I greet Bella's morning phone call. I'm in the staff room photocopying a bunch of test sheets, and I'm glad for the distraction.

"Dad..."

"Tyler?!" My voice immediately rises; he sounds close to tears and freaked out.

"Dad, can you come here?"

"Where are you, mate? What happened?"

"We...we...a car hit the back of our car," he explains, bursting into sobs, and just as the blood in my veins turns to ice.

"Where's Bella?!"

"She...she got really s-scared."

"Is she okay?—Tyler, where are you?"

"I don't know! Can you please come? I don't know what to do—she's not breathing properly!"

"Jesus Christ!" I burst, knowing exactly what the implications are. "Does she have her inhaler?"

"Yes, but it's not working—Bella, please be okay— _please_!" he suddenly cries out to her. "Are you coming, Dad?!"

"I'm coming now. Is anyone there with you?" I ask, bursting through the exit doors into the main hall and making my way to the car park. I'm running, and my heart's in my throat.

"The man we had a crash with."

"Okay, put him on the phone!"

"Okay..."

"Hello?" A middle aged man's voice speaks down the receiver a few seconds later, and he sounds grave.

"Have you called an ambulance?!" I burst, unlocking my car and throwing myself behind the steering wheel.

"Yes, it's a few minutes away."

"How is she?—is she breathing?" Turning on the engine, I yank the gear stick into reverse, and pull out, but I can barely concentrate. My hands are shaking and I feel sick to my stomach.

"She is, yes, but she's struggling. I've placed her in the recovery position, but..."

"Is she conscious?" I can hear Tyler in the background begging Bella to wake up, and it's tearing my heart out.

"No, I mean, I'm not sure. She's very ill and sweating profusely."

"Where are you—what street?" I demand.

"Fitzroy," he answers, and it's just a few blocks from Tyler's school.

"Okay, I'm not going to beat the ambulance, but can you stay on the phone with me and tell me what hospital they're sending her to?"

"Yes, I can. The young man is fine. We were only travelling around forty kilometres. A dog ran out in front of her..." he explains.

"It's fine. I-I understand." I can't explain Bella's reaction to him, and he doesn't need to explain to me what happened. I get it.

With city traffic so congested, pile-ups are a common occurrence. I've been rear-ended five times in the thirteen years I've been driving, and only last time did my car sustain any real damage. With the flow of traffic rarely reaching the speed limit, collisions don't often result in anything serious. For Bella, though, it's not how serious it is, but the ramifications—the memories—behind it.

"The young man wants to speak to you again," he informs me, just as Tyler's voice once more bursts down the receiver.

"She's not going to die, is she, Dad?" He's crying and barely coherent.

"Of course she's not!" I insist, knowing at worst I'm deliberately misleading him. I know now how deadly asthma can be; Bella's most especially. "Just calm down, okay?"

"But she's not...she's... I'm really scared!"

"Tyler—listen to me!" I say firmly, attempting to keep both of us together.

"Yeah?"

"Calm down. I'll be there soon."

"How long?"

"Ten minutes," I lie, because with the peak-hour traffic it's more than likely going to be twice that long.

"Okay...but she...she doesn't look good."

"She'll be okay."

"I don't know what happened."

"I'll explain it to you later. Right now I just want you to stay calm. Bella can hear you, Tyler. You're going to upset her."

"Really?" he sounds hopeful.

"Really, so be strong, all right?"

"Dad?" he speaks up a moment later in a small voice.

"Yes."

"I thought of a name for her."

"Yeah?"

"Miss Beautiful, 'cause she always tell us we're handsome, but we never say it back to her." His voice completely breaks until he's crying again, and I'm on the verge of losing it along with him.

"Jesus, Tyler..."

It's the longest fifteen minutes of my life, and along the way every worst case scenario passes through my mind; that this is the third strike and I'm going to lose her; that Tyler coming along right now was to cushion the blow of losing her, to give me a reason to continue on; and that she was only meant to come into my life to help me be Tyler's father, and now that I am, she's returning to her family.

They're taking her to St Vincent's hospital, the man informs me when I'm only a couple of minutes away.

"A police officer will stay with your son until you arrive," he adds. "I'm terribly sorry..." He doesn't have to tell me how serious it is, though. I heard the sirens as the ambulance pulled away.

Bella's car's parked on the side of the road. A large dent is in her rear bumper, but other than that it's not really damaged. Fifteen minutes at the panel-beaters, maximum.

I pull to a stop behind it, noticing Tyler straight away. He's standing next to a young police woman who's trying her best to console him, but he's a complete wreck. The moment I pull myself from my car, he spots me and immediately he's running. He hits my chest so hard and fast he almost bounces off me before he wraps his arms around my waist and cries.

"She's going to be okay," I reassure him again, pulling him further to me, but I'm no longer sure of it. Not that I ever was.

"But what if she isn't?" he sobs, pressing his face into my shirt. "I never had a mum before, and I love her."

* * *

 **A/N: Yeah, I know...**


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N: I was meant to update yesterday, but I was drowning in snot and decided to sim all day long in an act of self-pity. Subconsciously I might be dragging this out from ending. Hard to say; subject to debate... Don't mind me I'm flying high on pseudoephadrine. Ugh.  
Thanks to Kimmie45, and Starry8. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 43**

 **Bella.**

My mother used to always say "what you fear you create", and christ... Okay, I wasn't exactly fearing a panic induced asthma attack again, but in front of Tyler... In front of his father the first time was bad enough, but Tyler... I couldn't bear it.

In the beginning he tried to be brave. He put his arm around my shoulders and told me everything was okay, but the more my airways restricted the more his fear increased until he was crying and pleading with me to breathe while telling me he wanted me to be his mum.

The worst thing is I couldn't say anything. I didn't have air enough in my lungs to speak and reassure him.

The only positive thing I can say about it is I didn't throw up this time. No kid should see that from their parent, and christ knows I saw my mother vomit more times than I care to remember; considering she was always drunk. I attempted to keep myself as calm as possible but it's not the easiest thing to pull off when you're entire body is crying out for oxygen.

I'm sure the first time this happened the ambulance arrived within a couple of minutes, but this time it seemed to take an eternity, and I wasn't sure how long I could hang on. I started to feel myself fade while my vision began to cloud around the periphery. With my energy completely expired, I closed my eyes and the last thing I recall is Tyler's fearful, high-pitched voice screaming my name.

When I woke again I was in the ambulance, and then in the ER where I could finally take a full breath again. But I was completely spent and exhausted, and every laboured breath I took only made it that much harder to fight the approaching unconsciousness.

God, I hate feeling this way.

 **. . .**

I'm being admitted for observation. Despite my best, albeit breathless, protests they were bloody insistent. My lung function has dropped, and there's no getting around it.

After I'm given corticosteroids intravenously, and when the pulmonary specialist is satisfied my lung inflammation has gone down, I'm shifted to the _stable_ side of emergency. This is when my boys are allowed in to see me, and christ, you'd think by now I'd be used to seeing that intense fear that often overruns Edward's face, but I'm not. Nor am I even remotely ready for Tyler's.

Edward reaches me first; he's close to tears. Bringing his hands to cup both sides of my face, he kisses every point of it—my forehead, my cheeks, my lips—hastily and with too much emotional charge.

"Jesus, Bella..." he utters; he sounds frayed and this is when I realise he's only just holding it together.

"I'm okay, handsome," I insist softly, but I can't put up much of a fight. I'm still so faint and breathless.

He sighs. Actually he more than sighs; he releases every molecule of air in his lungs and practically slumps against me.

"Oh, honey..." I say gently, and he only shakes his head; though, I'm not sure of his meaning.

"Tyler," he murmurs, pulling himself off me and moving to the side as his fingers rake stiffy through his already dishevelled hair.

My gaze falls to Tyler, who's standing slightly back from Edward, looking as lost and vulnerable as he did the first time I ever saw him. "Hey, sweetie."

"Hi, Bella," he replies, his voice wavering as big, fat tears spill over and down his cheeks.

My heart immediately fractures and I fight hard to keep my own emotions from erupting. "Come and give me a hug," I whisper, holding out my arm to him.

He seems reluctant at first, before he moves forward, climbs onto the bed beside me and wraps both his arms around my neck. "I'm sorry, Bella," he cries, and hearing the sobs break from him is too much for me.

"Why are you sorry?" I ask him as my voice inevitably catches in my throat.

"Because I couldn't help you," he replies, pulling back to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.

"But you _did_ help me," I assure him. "You stayed with me, and you stayed calm and called your dad. You know how proud I am of you?"

"R-really?" he hiccups, and christ, he's breaking my heart.

"Really."

"Are you better now?" He continues to wipe away his tears even as they stubbornly fall until his entire shirt sleeve is drenched. He's still wearing his school uniform and he looks ridiculously adorable in it. With the grey blazer, turn-over knee socks, shorts, and blue and yellow striped tie, it's like looking into a time capsule. With every passing day he looks even more like Edward.

"I'm _a lot_ better."

"When are you coming home?"

"Tomorrow."

"Promise?" His tear-filled eyes widen with hope.

"Of course, I promise, but hey, you and your dad can have a boys' night when you get home. You can stay up all night, eat junk food and watch scary movies."

"But...it-it won't be the same without you," he says, his chest shuddering.

"You're adorable."

He blushes and takes another wavering breath. "Me and Dad came up with a name for you?"

"You did?"

He nods. "Miss Beautiful-talks-a-lot."

I laugh and immediately start coughing, but it's definitely a better alternative than completely falling apart in front of him.

"You boys are killing me," I say tenderly, biting down on my lower lip to keep the tears from overrunning me; something Edward quickly realises.

"Mate," he says, placing his hand on Tyler's shoulder, "go to the coke machine and get a couple of drinks, okay?" And shoving his hand in his pocket, he pulls out several two dollar coins, dropping them in Tyler's palm.

"Okay," Tyler agrees, sliding off the bed to his feet. "You want something, Bella?" he turns back and asks.

"Anything, sweetie."

Edward waits for Tyler to disappear from view, before with another heavy, drawn out sigh, he takes the seat beside me. Then slumping forward, he drops his head into his hands.

"I'm sorry, handsome," I whisper, reaching out to run my fingers through his hair.

A fractured laugh bursts from him. "You have nothing to be sorry about, baby." And when he looks up I realise he's crying.

" _Edward_..." My voice hitches. He shakes his head again and roughly inhales his emotions back.

"Baby," he takes my hand in both of his and brings it to his lips, "I'm going to enrol him at Sydney Grammar."

" _What_?" I'm aghast, and immediately shake my head, when he elaborates.

"It's just across the park. He can walk there, and you won't have to drive him anymore."

"Edward— _no_!" I'm insistent, even if I barely have the energy to express it.

"I'm not putting you through this _one more time_!" His voice rises, his eyes widening and in them I see that ever constant pain he carries. I know he's serious, but I can't conceive of it.

"We're not sending him to that school. We _can't_!" I state forcefully, needing to pause to catch my breath.

He shakes his head and brings my hand to his lips again. "You know what your...respiratory specialist told me when you had pneumonia?" he asks, his voice falling to just above a whisper, and he's really struggling with this, I realise.

I only shake my head in reply.

"He said with your asthma any attack you have can be fatal. I'm not going to put you at risk any more—I'm not going to lose you!" His tears once more spill over and releasing my hand he hastily wipes them away.

"You're not going to lose me," I insist, my voice softening, but before I realise it, my tears are falling just as effortlessly.

"I can't, baby. I just...I can't..."

"Edward," I begin, taking a shaky breath to inhale back my tears, "stop and realise what you're saying. You know at that school it's all about what your father does for a living. As soon as they find out what you do they will _torture_ him!"

"He's going to inherit _three times_ what those little arseholes ever will!" he attempts to reason with me as his eyes all but plead with me.

I continue to shake my head, but my tears are free falling now and I can't stop them. "But he won't understand that."

"He won't understand if anything happens to you," he replies, pulling himself to his feet and cupping his hand to my cheek again. "Bella, he loves you—as much as I love you." His voice is impassioned and reflecting ten-fold from those intense eyes of his, and I'm suddenly terrified I won't be able to talk him around. "And I can't do this without you," he adds, his voice breaking again as he very obviously fights to keep his expression from crumbling along with it.

I feel utterly helpless, and turning my head toward the ceiling in complete defeat, I cover my eyes with my hands and sob. It's all I'm capable of, right now.

"Hey..." Edward says, sounding suddenly anxious as he removes my hands from my face. "I'm sorry, baby. I just...I can't risk you. Please understand."

"What about when we move to Surry Hills?" I ask as he dries away my tears with his fingers.

"We'll...stay at the apartment until he's done with school."

" _Edward_ ," I attempt to protest when he shakes his head to head me off.

"I told you—I can't let this happen again."

But I'm undeterred. "I can't go along with this. I _won't_!"

"Bella, _please_..."

"Get him a private tutor until we find a place and move," I suggest desperately. "He needs to catch up anyway."

He pauses to consider it, and I sigh inwardly in relief, hoping to hell it's not premature.

"Okay..." he relents, releasing another burdened breath. "I'll talk to Alec tonight." And leaning down he presses his lips to my forehead. "I'm sorry, baby..."

I utter out half a laugh, half a sob; out of pure relief if nothing else, "Christ, Mr Apology..."

"Just, please get better. I can't stand to see you like this."

I nod, tilting my head to kiss his lips, even with the bloody nasal cannula in the way giving me one long constant head freeze. "I'll be fine in the morning. I just need to sleep it off."

"Okay," he murmurs, resting his brow with mine momentarily. "I'm sorry I upset you."

"You scared me more than anything," I admit, because I'm not about to confess to him that what little energy I had is now completely depleted. "Why would you even consider such a thing?" I ask baffled.

"Because you're too important to me—to both of us," he replies, giving his emotions free rein again.

"He'd be so unhappy there he'd hate us," I point out in a whisper.

"I...Jesus..." he mutters before abandoning it.

"You're just thinking with your heart right now," I say, placing my hand to his cheek.

He nods reluctantly, as his breath gushes from him again. "Yeah..."

"Take Tyler home and spoil him tonight, okay? I really frightened him."

"You really frightened me, as well," he murmurs.

"You think I survived the accident that killed my entire family only to keel over from asthma?" I ask lightly, attempting to put him at ease, but he's not receptive to it at all.

"Bella, Jesus..."

"Oh, Mr Stress Head..." I curve my elbow around his neck, and press my face against his warm skin. "You smell nice."

His breath shoots from his nose as if he's trying to suppress laughter but he sounds too completely wearied. "You want me to lay with you?" he offers, and miserably, it's become another one of our traditions.

"Of course I do," I reply, and after he sits himself beside me on the bed and wraps his arm around my shoulders, I immediately snuggle against his side and close my eyes.

I'm asleep before Tyler returns.

 **. . .**

Edward takes the next day off to be with me, and he's had so many days off on my account already. He arrives at 9:30 am, an hour before the wards open for visitors; without Tyler.

"I sent him to school," he explains after I asked about him. "He's better off there, and I don't..." his mind appears to drift, "I don't want him to see you like this."

"Christ, Edward..." I consider arguing with him but let it go. I have to allow Edward to take control; to be Tyler's father. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine, but he was pretty shaken up yesterday," he replies, his tone dropping, and straight away I feel culpable. That sweet boy has been through enough already without me traumatising him further.

"I'm sorry."

He smiles at me, it's tender but still entirely too emotionally charged. "Would you stop apologising? You have nothing to be sorry about."

I smile in return but it's only fleeting. "Have you thought more about...what we talked about yesterday?"

He nods, exhaling wearily as he does. "We'll talk about it when we get home. Are they releasing you today?"

"Yeah, as soon as the pulmonologist makes his rounds. Edward..."

"Yeah?"

"You're not sending him to Sydney Grammar?"

"No. Bella—"

"Scot's College?"

"No..."

"The King's School?"

He takes a measured breath, his smile ghosting to the surface again. "He's staying at Crown Street."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Good." I hold my hand out to him. "Kiss me again."

He relents and bends down to plant his lips gently but briefly to mine. "You look tired..." he observes after pulling back to gauge me again.

"I didn't get a lot of sleep," I admit.

"You breathing better?"

"I'm fine, Mr Stress head," I assure him. "I just let myself lose it again. I wish I knew how to prevent it, but..." Four years with Dr Jenks and it's still unresolved, but then there's some things even a five-hundred-dollar-an-hour shrink can't cure.

"No more driving," he concludes.

Christ, handsome..." Because what he's proposing is treating the symptom without even scratching the surface, but it's not exactly something I want to rehash.

"I don't give shit," his voice almost becomes serious. "I've seen you like this too many times. The next time..." he abruptly pauses and it's not hard to work out his thought process. He's worried about losing me as much as I'm worried about losing him. Him and now Tyler.

"Fatherhood looks good on you, Mr Assertive," I smirk, reaching out and grabbing his shirt to tug him closer to me.

He only smiles as if I'm exasperating him again. "You're doing my head in."

I'm released just after midday, and it's not a minute too soon.

"I have a surprise for you," Edward murmurs in my ear as we head to the carpark.

"Oh?" I say, turning to gaze up at him curiously.

"Close your eyes," he instructs me, enclosing his hands over them before I get the chance.

"What have you bought me this time?" I ask ruefully as he continues to lead me blindly for several more metres.

"It's for all of us," he replies, releasing his hands again from my face.

He stopped us in front of a red Audi Q7 SUV; a brand new one by the looks of it. "This is... _ours_?" I put to him, my brows rising high.

"It's ours." He breaks into a grin. "I picked it up last night."

I nod slowly, appraising it before glancing back up at him. "I bet Tyler was pumped."

"He was," he replies, pulling his phone from his back pocket and opening his photo gallery. A moment later he holds it out for me, showing me several pics of Tyler obviously at the Audi dealership in front of the car holding a dozen red balloons. "They called me yesterday to come and pick it up. It was meant to be a surprise, but..."

"But I ruined it by having an asthma attack," I finish his sentence for him.

"Of course you didn't, you goose," he says, pulling the key from his pocket to unlock it.

"Is that when you took Tyler for dinner?" I ask as he helps me into the leather seat of the passenger side as if I were a decrepit.

"Yeah..."

"I thought you were gone awhile." I turn to him and smirk as he slides in behind the wheel. "Did you boys go for a drive?"

"No. Tyler fell asleep five minutes after we were headed home."

"Let's go for a drive this weekend," I propose.

He'd just inserted the key into the ignition when he turns to stare at me. "No."

"You're tip-toeing around me again," I point out.

Removing the key, he sighs; his shoulders dropping with it. "We're not going to do drives until you..."

"So, you're going to limit us because of me?"

"What if it happens again?" he appeals to me, his eyes widening. "What if you stop breathing next time? Bella."

"What if the world ends tomorrow?" I break in. "That's no reason to stop living."

"That's not likely, but you unable to breathe _is_."

"Edward..."

"Bella!—Jesus Christ!" he suddenly bursts. "You _have_ limitations. Don't you get that?"

"I still have _bullshit_ that I haven't worked through yet! There's a difference."

"Well, until you work it out we're not going bloody driving!" he insists, his tone emphasising the finality of it. "I'm not compromising on this," he adds, his face clouding as he places both hands on the steering wheel and stares ahead of him.

"You going to wrap me in cotton wool for the rest of my life?" I ask, arching a brow when he turns back to me.

"If I have to."

"Christ!"

"Put yourself in my shoes? If it was me who could suddenly stop breathing what would you do?"

I immediately falter as my mouth drops open in silence, but I don't answer him. I can't.

"If you wouldn't do it for me, would you do it for Tyler?" His voice comes infinitely close to catching and I realise my hesitancy has hurt him.

"I'd do it for you, handsome," I whisper, placing my palm to his cheek. "Of course I would."

Taking my hand in both of his he brings it to his lips. "Just please understand, baby. You're so bloody stubborn sometimes."

I nod, inhaling back my tears with a wavering breath. "Okay... I'll give you this one."

He almost laughs before he bows his head and groans to himself. "Jesus..."

 **. . .**

"Okay, here's what's going to happen," Edward begins after handing me a coffee, sitting beside me on the sofa, and curling his arm around my shoulders.

I turn to him expectantly, but I feel like holding my breath.

"I couldn't get him a full-time tutor on such short notice, but Alec arranged a driver for me. He's going to take Tyler to and from school until we move closer."

"—But," I immediately cut in, not immediately sold on the idea.

"No buts!" Edward counters me, sounding completely too authoritarian.

"He likes me to take him!" I state as a weak defence.

"He agrees with me."

" _What_...?"

"It's two against one." He smirks sightly to himself. "You're out-numbered."

He's rendered me speechless and that's not a bloody common occurrence. " _Fine!_ " I huff, but I'm not happy about it. "Who's this driver?"

"James. He used to be Pop's driver. I trust him."

"How old is he?"

"In his fifties."

"Okay—bloody hell."

"Happy?" He tips my chin, a charming smile pulling slowly on his lips.

"I'm satisfied, and that's as close as you're getting."

He breaks into a grin, looking as if he's fighting to urge to all out laugh before grabbing my hand and kissing the back of it.

"So what did you boys get up to last night without me?" I decide to change the subject.

"Emmett came over," he answers, immediately appearing distracted.

"Oh...?"

"He proposed to Rose."

" _What_?" I utter, straightening up and almost spilling my coffee over myself.

He scoffs dryly. "Tell me about it."

"Is she pregnant?"

"No, but that was my first guess, too."

"So... _why_?" Because I'm genuinely bloody baffled.

"He sees something in her that we don't, I guess. He wanted to make sure I was on board, and to not give him shit over it."

"Christ..." I'm speechless again.

"He told me... _stuff_..." he adds in a mumble after a moment, and it's obvious it was a lot more than just _stuff_.

"God, what now?" I ask, resigned.

"Rose told him that Lauren deliberately got herself pregnant," he says after a moment, pointedly avoiding my gaze.

"... _What_?" The shock behind my voice dropping it to a whisper. "Why would she do that?"

"Apparently her reputation got so bad all her friends were turning against her. She wanted to change schools but her father wouldn't let her. There was only one reason he'd make her leave, and she knew it. That's where I came in."

"She got herself pregnant just to transfer out?!" I put to him in continued disbelief.

"Apparently," he mumbles bitterly, shrugging a shoulder. "That's how fucked up these families are."

I laugh out of pure irony. "Believe me, you're preaching to the converted. That's why I don't want Tyler around them.

"Yeah." He still won't look at me.

"Edward..."

"She completely played me, Bella. She knew I had no idea...and with my family, as well... Christ..." He bows his head and rubs his forehead with his fingertips roughly.

Sliding my palm to the far side of his face, I coax him to meet my gaze. "But if she didn't there'd be no Tyler," I point out gently.

He nods, releasing a deeply held breath. "I know, and I'm glad he's in my life. I really am."

"Of course you are."

"I just wish I didn't miss so much," he adds, pressing the heel of his palm against his brow this time. "I'm pissed off that Pop never told me. I mean, I get why he didn't, but I had a right to know."

"I know you did," I murmur, pulling him to me to kiss him. He can still look so lost at times, but already he's an amazing father. I wasn't sure how he'd handle it, but he exceeded my expectations almost immediately. "I'm proud of you for stepping up," I say, planting my lips to his neck before once more meeting those steely eyes of his. "It would freak most guys out."

He laughs humourlessly. "Oh, I was freaked, don't worry."

"But you took it all in your stride."

He scoffs again as if he thinks I'm being too generous. "I was scared shitless, baby. I didn't know what the hell I was supposed to do. I just knew that I had to take responsibility for him."

"I knew you'd do the right thing," I assure him, resting my chin against his shoulder.

He pauses, smiling to himself as if he's losing himself in his thoughts again. "I didn't expect to feel anything for him so soon, but that first day I was alone with him... I don't know... He looked up at me and he was so full of fear but hope at the same time. It was as if he was betting everything he had on me, and I felt like I was looking in a mirror. It was how I once saw Pop. I knew I couldn't let him down."

"You haven't. He looks up to you like you're a super hero, and do you know what he asked me the other day?"

"What?" He turns to meet my gaze squarely.

"When he'll grow hair on his chest like you." I laugh from the memory while Edward's smile broadens. "He's so adorable."

"He changed you in ways I never could, baby," he adds after a moment.

He's changed me in a way only a child can," I expand on it, "but if it wasn't for you, handsome, I wouldn't be anywhere near ready to be his mother."

"Hmm..." he murmurs, turning his head to plant his lips to my brow.

"I probably would have used him as an excuse to bury it further," I mumble my thoughts out loud.

"Yeah," Edward replies in a quiet voice, though he's in complete agreement. "You were good at that."

I'm quiet for a while, wondering how the hell I overlooked the fact that Edward has always understood me, even when I barely understood myself. "There's no getting much passed you, is there?"

His breath shoots softly from his nose, but he doesn't answer.

Tilting my head up I kiss him again before pulling back to contemplate it further. "While you pulled me through the other side of hell, I watched you change and grow in ways I never thought possible. You're not that guy anymore who first took me out—the one who jumped out of his skin if I laid a finger on him."

He smirks and blushes simultaneously, and almost laughs. "I know..."

"You just..." I begin, but let it go. I'm not sure how to word it.

"I just..." he prompts me.

"You can't put me ahead of Tyler anymore. He comes first. That's what being a parent is about."

"Yeah," he mumbles in agreement, taking an inevitable breath even as his head shakes.

"Did you take him today or did the driver?" I ask, my thoughts quickly diverting back to Tyler.

"I took him."

"I'm coming with you when you pick him up," I quickly state.

"No, you're not," he immediately offsets.

"It's five kilometres down the road and I've driven there dozens of times already," I protest.

"You were on edge when we were driving home from the hospital, Bella. I could see it in your eyes. You're staying here." He's adamant.

"How far do you think ordering me around will get you?" I arch a pointed brow.

He breaks into a smirk, and I'm suddenly finding it hard to fight off my own.

"I'm not sure I like this assertive side of you, handsome," I concede, grabbing his chin.

"Right now you're a ticking time bomb who has no idea how vulnerable she is," he replies, and while he's teasing me, a percentage of him isn't.

"How do you think I survived before I met you?" I put to him.

"You were just hanging on," he says, one-hundred-percent serious this time.

"Christ..." He knows me too well, and I suspect he always has.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading :)**


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N: Happy Sunday. There's a new banner for this story in the works; one with Tyler in it. I'll link it on my profile as soon as it's done.  
Thanks as always to Kimmie 45 and StarryEyedWriter8.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 44**

 **Edward.**

It's October, a month before the wedding, when we finally find a house in Surry Hills. It's a four bedroom, two and a half bath terrace that's been completely renovated in keeping with its original Victorian architecture. Not to mention, it's only two blocks from the new state high school opening next year, on a quiet street, with a big enough rear courtyard for Oppa. It feels like a miracle, but it ticks all the boxes.

Bella's immediately in love, but then so are several other prospective buyers. I pay well over reserve to get it as well as paying extra to reduce the time of settlement, but there's no way I can let it go.

We take possession the same weekend we get married.

Bella and I are both on the contract, and after signing it we take Tyler to Hyde Park for lunch. I've been promising to play cricket with him for a while, and after grabbing Subway, we head to the north half of the park.

"Dad, help me put 'em on?" Tyler speaks up, attempting to strap a batting pad to his right leg. Bella bought him a cricket kit after getting an A plus in his last Maths test and he almost burst with excitement. He loves cricket like I once did, and he hasn't stopped pestering me to bowl to him ever since.

He calls me "Dad" all the time now. "Dad" this, "Dad" that; "Dad, you know what happened?"; "Dad, Bella said this"; "Dad, can we do that?" While he talks one ear off, Bella talks off the other, and it's become my new normal. _Our_ new normal, because it's new for all of us.

He's been with us for six months and I find it hard to believe he wasn't always around. I try not to focus on it. It pisses me off, and I don't want to harbour that much anger for Pop.

"Go on, _Dad_ ," Bella murmurs on my ear before squeezing my side.

After kneeling beside him I pull the Velcro straps of the pads tight around both Tyler's legs.

"You keep score, 'kay, Bella," he says after I hand him the bat.

"Okay," she says with a quick smile, pulling herself up from the picnic blanket.

I set up the stumps, hammering them into the ground with the wooden mallet that came with his kit, and while Tyler positions himself in front of them, I pick up the ball and step back roughly twenty feet.

"No going easy on me, Dad, all right?" he calls out.

"All right. You ready?" I toss the ball in the air and catch it again, ready to bowl to him.

"Ready," he replies, thudding the bat into the turf.

Despite his warning, I go easy, but I have to gauge what he can and can't handle. He hits the ball hard on a full throw and it flies over my head.

"That was too soft! Bowl it harder," he insists, grinning; impressed with himself.

"Four!" Bella calls out, tossing the ball back to me.

"Okay, harder?" I put to him.

"Harder," he echoes.

I bowl it fractionally faster, and again, he hits it over my head with the same ease.

"Come on, Dad..." he complains with a visible sigh.

"The kid's good," I mutter to Bella who's standing roughly six feet behind me.

She laughs. "And you're surprised by that?"

Again I bowl it, picking up more speed, and again he bats it past Bella and me both.

He groans this time, over exaggerating it. "I reckon Bella could bowl it better," he taunts me.

"Hey!" Bella objects.

I arch a brow at him and he breaks into a cheesy grin. "You think so?"

"Give me your best shot." Again he braces himself around the bat, whacking it into the groove he's already made in the grass.

I move back, giving myself several paces in lead up and when I bowl this time the ball flies straight past him into the stumps.

"You're out!" Bella announces while he only stares at me with his mouth wide open.

"Hey, I'm not old like you. I'm only a kid. You can't bowl it to me like that!" he protests.

"Old? You little shit!" I burst, taking a deliberate step toward him, and throwing down the bat he takes off running.

The batting pads slow him down and I have him around the waist a few seconds later.

"What did you call me?" I joke with him, grabbing him in a head lock. He needs his hair cut again; it grows just as fast as mine does.

"Old, but you _are_ old," he answers without hesitation against my shirt. "Thirty is old!"

"He's right, handsome. You are _so_ old," Bella pipes up in laughter.

Hurling him off the ground, I throw him over my shoulder; threatening to dump him in the rubbish bin.

"Bella, help me!" He calls out to her, laughing as he does.

"Nope. This is too much testosterone for me," she replies lightly.

He puts up somewhat of a defensive, and getting to his feet he attempts to trip me over. He doesn't succeed but he's a lot stronger than he was that first night he came to stay with us.

I wrestle around with him for a while, giving him enough room to see what he can give me, when exhausted he drops to the ground.

"Time out!" he declares, leaning back on his hands as he struggles to catch his breath.

"Not so cocky now, are you?" I tease him, sitting beside him and whacking his elbow out from under him as he falls flat on his back.

"Hey!" He laughs, sitting himself back up and shoving me. "Reckon I'll get best and fairest?" he puts to me, growing suddenly serious. He's referring to the sports presentation night at his school at the end of November. He made the cricket team, but sulked to no end after he didn't make captain. He's now got all his hopes set on winning the first place trophy.

"You scored the most runs," I point out.

"Yeah, but I'm a real crappy bowler," he mumbles, yanking out several blades of grass.

"You've got a good chance, but if someone else wins it don't mope about it, okay?"

He looks up at me, his eyes wide. "But, Bella said you won every year."

"I didn't win in sixth grade," I admit. I didn't but I had just as much problems in Year 6 as he did. "Okay?" I reiterate, dropping my palm to the top of his head and shaking it.

"'Kay," he replies, his eyes glancing into the distance for a moment before back to me; he breaks into a smile. "Dad...?" he speaks up after another pause.

"Yeah?"

"You and Bella were friends in high school, right?"

"Erm, yeah..." I reply with a small smile.

"Did Bella know my mum, too?" His voice softens and he looks really hopeful all of a sudden, but it's not like I'm unprepared for it. He's been slowly leading up to this conversation for the last few months.

"She knew her, yeah..." I reply, looking over to Bella and feeling really bloody uneasy all of a sudden.

Bella's sitting back on the picnic blanket where we ate lunch several feet away, with her knees propped as she scrolls through her phone. I try and grab her attention but she's oblivious. But then she likes to give me and Tyler space, and often retreats from the two of us.

"Did...you love her like Bella?" Tyler asks the one question I've been dreading. He's never seen his mother, and he doesn't have a photo of her. He doesn't even know her name. He knows her name's Lauren but her last is a complete fabrication, and Bella's caught him more than once Googling it. He's constructed an illusion of her in his mind. An illusion he wants me to validate, and I can't break his heart and destroy them. At the same time, I feel culpable going along with them, because the truth is no fairy tale.

"Tyler...we were kids. I was seventeen and she was sixteen. We were young..." I attempt to explain.

"But she was your girlfriend?"

"Yeah," I nod, "she was."

"So you had to love her, right?"

"I...wasn't sure what love was back then, mate," I completely bullshit, breaking his gaze to rub awkwardly at the back of my neck.

"But...I heard you tell Bella you loved her even when you were in school," he admits, and there's a betrayal in his eyes, as if he thinks I've wronged his mother.

I take a heavy breath and once more glance over at Bella. She looks up this time and catches my gaze. I immediately signal her to come and rescue me.

"Was she as pretty as Bella?" Tyler asks, as Bella pulls herself to her feet.

I tense and throw him a tight smile. "Yeah, sure."

"Hey, handsome, you ready to head home?" Bella breaks in just in time, wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

"Yeah," he mumbles. "Bella...?"

"Yes?" she replies, tucking his hair behind his ear.

"Were you and my mum friends?"

Bella pauses, her eyes discreetly meeting mine before she forces a smile to her lips. "Well, I knew her, but she was in the year above me at school."

"Was she pretty?" His voice rises in hope as if everything he believes is riding on it.

"She was _really_ pretty," Bella answers without pause, and Tyler's entire face brightens for a moment. It's true, though. She was pretty, but I was never able to see past who she actually was; a spoiled little elitist princess.

"I don't look anything like her," he mumbles, his eyes dropping to the ground.

"Sometimes when you turn your head a certain way, I see her," Bella assures him softly, squeezing him momentarily to her.

"But Dad didn't love her like he loves you."

"Tyler..." I begin with a sigh, but thankfully, Bella saves me from the torture of it.

"He asked her to be his girlfriend, so he definitely liked her. It's different when you're an adult, that's all. Okay?" she nudges him.

"Yeah..." He breaks into a small smile, but again it's fleeting. "I know...my nan wasn't my real nan."

"Oh, sweetie..." Bella looks horrified.

"I knew when she died. My foster mother said my real nan didn't want me."

"Your foster mother was a piece of shit, Tyler. Whatever she said to you, put it out of your mind!" I say abruptly while Tyler only stares at me in surprise. "Okay?"

He breaks into a small smile and nods his head. "All right."

I grab his shoulder. "Come on. Let's get home. You want to grab a milkshake on the way?" I offer.

"Yeah," he replies, and after helping him to his feet, the three of us gather his cricket equipment. And thankfully there's no further mention of his mother.

It won't be long until he brings it up again, though. Bella and I are both aware of it.

 **. . .**

"We have to tell him," I conclude that night in our room; it's an hour since Tyler went to bed and it's the only safe time to talk. He's got the hearing of a bat. "He's going to find out sooner or later and then he's going to fucking hate me."

"He won't hate you," she assures me, kneeling on the bed behind me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

"He believes a fantasy about her. It's going to kill him when he realises it's all bullshit..." I mumble, shaking my head to myself before dropping it to my outstretched palm.

"But he'll have you to get him through it," she reminds me, planting her lips to the side of my neck.

"So, you think we need to tell him?" I put to her, turning my head to catch her gaze. Apart of me hopes she'll refuse to go along with it, like she did with Sydney Grammar, but not this time.

She sighs, her forehead creasing heavily even as she nods in agreement.

"Okay, shit... We'll tell him Monday," I decide reluctantly, because I'm not exactly looking forward to it.

"So soon?" Bella blurts looking suddenly alarmed

"There's no point in delaying it," I mumble, dragging my fingers back through my hair. "Fuck..."

Sunday I call Alec and ask him to arrange to have old and current photos of Lauren ready for me. I pick them up Monday on my way home from work before swinging by to grab a pizza and a tub of choc-mint ice-cream. It's Tyler's favourite, and it's the only thing I can think of to soften the blow.

We have a television now, Bella relented, but for Tyler she'd do almost anything. I walk in the door and find them both playing video games.

"Hey, Dad—pizza!" Tyler greets me brightly as I lay it on the hallstand, while Bella pulls herself from the lounge and wraps her arms around my neck.

"You got them?" she asks softly against my ear.

I nod once and release a heavy breath. "We'll have dinner first."

She hums softly before pressing her lips gently to mine. "Okay", she murmurs; she appears distracted and she looks bloody heartbroken.

Bella and I listen to Tyler chat about his day at school while neither of us say a word. Occasionally Bella nods and smiles in response to him, placing her hand to his cheek, but she's struggling to contain her emotion already. As for me, the more I listen to his nonstop chatter the more pissed off I can feel myself becoming.

After dinner we let Tyler serve up the ice cream. He scoops himself way too much. So much he'll probably end up with a stomach ache, but while he digs in Bella and I barely touch ours. He has absolutely no idea what we're about to tell him and I can't fucking stand it.

"Bella..." I mumble, grabbing her hand and pulling the both of us abruptly from the table.

"We'll be back in a moment, sweetie," she says hastily to Tyler as I drag her into the bathroom.

After closing the door behind us, I turn on the shower to drown the sound of us out. "Bella...just back me up as much as possible, okay?"

She only gazes at me for a moment, her eyes wide. "Of course I will."

"I just...I'm shit at this kind of thing..." I explain my behaviour, "and you're good at calming him down."

"Edward...it's going to be all right," she says, but she doesn't sound even remotely confident.

"Remember in your car in Newton...?" I ask, and when she nods I continue. "You asked me if I had a kid, and I said 'I fucking hope not'?—What a fucking arsehole I was!"

Her expression softens and she shakes her head. "First of all, you said 'I _bloody_ hope not', and secondly, how the hell could you have known?"

I shake my head before dropping it to stare at the tiled floor. "I don't know, baby. I just...I've fucked up so much in my life already..."

"You're being too hard on yourself. You haven't fucked up _anything_ ," she insists, and when I look up to meet her eyes she breaks into a warm smile.

Mine tugs automatically in response before I shrug and expel a weary breath. "You want to get this over and done with?"

"Yeah..." Her voice drops to a whisper, but neither one of us move.

"How was class today?" I ask, reaching out to take her chin between my thumb and index finger.

"Good," she replies, and she knows I'm stalling. We're both stalling. "Edward...?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to be _too_ honest with him, are you?" She's worried about him getting hurt, and it suddenly occurs to me that as a mother she's beautiful.

"I...can't lie to him, baby..."

She let's go of her breath, sounding close to tears. "I know..." she says in a broken voice. "So long as he knows we love him."

I smile but it feels completely unnatural. I hold out my hand. She takes it reluctantly, and I pull her to me and into my arms. "I don't know what I'd do without you," I murmur against her hair.

"Likewise, handsome," she replies softly, then pulling back she kisses me. "No one ever said being a parent was easy," she adds almost ironically.

I only laugh completely without humour. No one ever said I had a son out in the world, either.

While Bella returns to Tyler, I grab the envelope of photos Alec had given me from my briefcase. Tearing it open roughly, I pull them out. There's two; the first is Lauren's tenth grade school photo at Sydney Grammar, and the second I can only assume is a recent one.

I stare at it for several seconds feeling my entire body of muscles stiffen. It's outdoors somewhere. She's probably at a polo match, or a country club function, knowing her family. She's smiling, and everything about her—from her hair that doesn't have a single strand out of place, to her Chanel earrings—projects the elitist snobbery of the upper class. It churns my fucking stomach.

Chanel is one of the only brand names I'm really familiar with. The reason I'm familiar with it is because my mother constantly wore it. Fuck, I hated those two linking "C"s, and I once had my own definition for them. Double cunt.

For ten years of my life that's what my mother was to me, and had this bitch Lauren Mallory raised Tyler, he more than likely would have gone through the same hell. If not for her old man's pride that's exactly what would have happened.

When I walk back into the living room, Bella's sitting with Tyler on the lounge. She's got her arm around him, reassuring him that everything's okay.

He looks up at me as I enter, but he doesn't say anything; he looks scared to death, though.

Placing my hand on his head I sit beside him.

"Tyler, mate, Bella and I...we need to talk to you," I begin as his eyes widen further in fear.

"You're not gonna send me back to foster care, are you?" he exclaims, almost bursting into tears.

"Of course we're not!" Bella beats me to it. "You can't get rid of us that easily." She nudges him, as a reluctant smile pulls on his lips.

Turning over the photos in my hand, I gaze down at them for a moment. Then taking an inevitable breath, I face him. "Tyler...this is your mother just before she got pregnant with you," I explain, placing it in his hands.

He stares down at it almost as if he's in shock; his eyes clearly absorbing every detail of her. I give him a moment because I know the next photo is going to dash all those dreams he has about her.

"And this one...is what she looks like now," I say quietly, placing it over the photo he's still clutching.

He's immediately confused, and his eyes fix to mine flooding with it. "But...she's still...alive?" he asks as if it's beyond comprehension.

I nod once and break his gaze. He's staring at me as if I have all the answers, when the reality is I don't.

"Then...why didn't she want me?" At the moment confusion is driving his emotions but it's obvious by the tone of his voice it's not going to last long.

"Sweetie, she was only young," Bella immediately steps in. "She hadn't even finished school. She couldn't take care of you the way you needed."

He shakes his head. "But Nan said she was rich."

Bella glances at me, and I can only gaze back completely fucking dumbfounded.

"Tyler..." I begin, when he cuts me off.

"Why did Nan tell me she died?" His voice is straining, but he's making every effort to hold it together. He's tough this kid; a lot tougher than I ever was.

"You would have been too young to understand." I can only guess her reasoning.

"So she never died?" He puts the question to Bella, and he's still having a hard time grasping it.

Bella shakes her head, before reaching out to wipe his hair from his brow. "No, sweetie."

"So, she didn't want me?" he asks a second time, to me this time as if I'll give him a different answer, and just as his tears spill over.

"I can't answer that, mate, but your Nan? She wanted you. She _chose_ you because that's how much she wanted you."

He blinks, before hastily reaching out to wipe his eyes. "Dad...?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you really not know...when I was b-born?" His voice completely breaks, and on impulse I yank him into my arms.

"Tyler, I _swear_ to you, I didn't know. Bella...Jesus..."

"He didn't know, sweetie," Bella immediately backs me up, but he's sobbing and I'm not sure he's in the right frame of mind to believe either one of us. His entire life has been a lie, after all. "Hey, it's _okay_ ," she attempts to get through to him. "Because you've got me and your dad now, and we're not going _anywhere_."

He nods jerkily, pulling back from me to wipe his eyes again with Bella's assistance. "O-Okay."

"You okay?" Bella asks, curving her arm around his shoulders and planting her lips to his temple.

"Yeah," he answers quietly, looking down at his hands.

"Do you have any questions you want to ask us?" I offer, placing my hand on his shoulder.

He appears to contemplate it before he shakes his head slowly, and Bella must know he's about to crack because just as the tears are unleashed on him again, she pulls him into her arms.

He cries it out for a few minutes and we let him. There's nothing between the three of us but the truth now, and that's all matters; that he can trust me and Bella to be honest with him.

"She...she can't come and take me away, can she?" he asks Bella after pulling himself somewhat together, but the fear in his voice is real.

"Sweetie, I adopted you. That means you're _my_ son. Mine and Edward's, and no one else's. I'm not going to let anyone take you away."

He nods, releasing a shuddering breath, before he turns to me. "Your mum didn't want you either, right, Dad?"

"Right, mate," I say softly, lifting his chin when he drops his head again.

"That means we're the same."

"We're the same."

"So, I'm gonna be all right, because you are."

I break into a smile, I can't help it, before wrapping my hand around the back of his neck. "You are."

He inhales his tears back roughly, and clumsily wipes his face again. "Then I'm not gonna cry anymore."

"Good man," I reply, and I'm proud of this boy my grandfather believed I needed to be protected from. As if my own flesh and blood could be so detrimental to me.

"You didn't love her, did you, Dad?" he asks, and he suddenly appears too old to be eleven years old.

The abuse he received in foster care made him mature in some areas and emotionally stunted in others. That's Dr Jenk's prognosis, anyway; it's the same thing he once said about me.

I shake my head. "No..."

"Cause you loved Bella."

"Cause I loved Bella," I echo in a whisper as my eyes catch hers. She's visibly moved while tears pour silently down her face, but I still can't remember a time when she was more beautiful.

"Bella?" He turns to her as she hastily attempts to pull herself together; she fails miserably.

"Yes, sweetie?" she asks, plastering a broad smile to her lips regardless.

"Is it okay if I tell everyone you're my birth mum?"

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N: Yep, this is the last one. A bit longer but still the last.  
Thanks to Kimmie45 who edited every chapter, and StarryEyedWriter8 who took over as pre-reader when SammyHale had her baby boy. These girls are amazing and sweet as pie.  
Anywho, *sniffs* I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Chapter 45**

 **Bella.**

" _So, Bella," Charlie says, dropping down on the leather library seating alongside me and whacking my shoulder with the back of his hand, "know what I heard?"_

" _What did you hear?" I ask without looking up from the open book in my lap. Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy; it's so random and completely asinine that I've had to prevent myself from bursting into laughter several times._

" _Edward's gonna ask you out."_

 _This immediately grabs my attention, and pulling my eyes from the pages I gaze up at him dubiously and in confusion._

" _Edward...?"_

"Cullen _," he reminds me in the same context as if I'd forgotten my own name._

 _Of course, it's Edward Cullen. He's the only_ Edward _who counts at our school; despite there being at least four other boys with the same name._

 _Outside of the inner east Edward is not a common name, but at this school..._

 _In reply, I snort, completely unconvinced. "I doubt that."_

" _Seriously," he insists. "I heard him in the locker room earlier talking to Jacob Black. He said you were the prettiest girl in the school and_ really smart _." My shit of a brother actually scoffs as though he thought it were ridiculous._

" _Riveting," I mutter letting his smart-arsery slide before focusing back on my book._

" _Seriously!" he repeats, his tone turning high in his effort to convince me. "If you want to get on Dad's good side bring him home for dinner."_

 _I glance up again, releasing a long, disinterested breath. "I think I'll pass. Do you know who his father is?" I raise my brows._

" _No..."_

" _Exactly. He doesn't have one."_

" _Yeah, but Bella, him and his brother are the riches guys at school," Charlie immediately points out, his voice dropping as if it's not exactly an open secret. I wonder whether he thinks I'm not already aware of it, while knowing full well his sentiments would be echoed by our father._

 _It doesn't matter that high profile Carlisle Cullen's grandsons are illegitimate and the result of his daughter "slumming it" in the western suburbs. Money always cancels out breeding when it ventures into the billions._

" _Charlie..." I complain, wishing he would stop bugging me already. My brother plays rugby with Edward and his brother and it's bad enough that he idolises the two of them, "it's not going to happen. I have zero interest in_ Edward Cullen _."_

 _The irony? I'm more than likely the only one._

" _I heard he got Lauren Mallory knocked up," Charlie adds after a pause, snickering to himself and ramming his fists into his pants pockets._

" _Hm..." I mumble, smirking to myself. I heard the same thing, and I shudder to think what he gets up to outside of school hours. And let's be honest, inside as well._

" _You're really not into him?" he presses, using that same tone as if he thinks I'm out of my mind._

" _Well, we can't all be airheads who swoon at the sight of a pretty face. Some of us_ actually _have standards."_

 _He tsks half beneath his breath before yanking my glasses from my nose and shoving them over his own. "God, you're blind!"_

 _ **. . .**_

 _Christ, he's handsome...it's all I can think every time my eyes meet his, and I have to constantly fight myself from staring into them like an idiot. His eyes are blue today. Most times they're green, but today they're blue. A kind of teal blue, and I begin wondering whether they change with his moods. Though he only appears to have two of those; on edge and aloof._

 _Despite their colour, his eyes are always characterised by a sharpness. An intensity that looks like they could will your existence into oblivion by a single glance._

" _Y = 2x + 4," he continues on explaining the evil linear equation unaware that I'm in an internal struggle between his very obvious good looks and my vow of nonconformity. "Bella...?" He notes my distraction, looks up and sets those eyes ablaze on me once more. "Do...do you understand?"_

" _Yeah..." I answer hastily. I don't, but if he doesn't sever his gaze from mine I will quickly lose my faculties._

 _He keeps them trained on me, so I'm forced to break eye contact. I glance out over the main quadrangle where half the school is water-bombing the Year 12s._

" _Shouldn't you be out there?" I put to him, tilting my head toward the on-going ruckus in emphasis._

 _He smiles, half shrugs and blushes. He actually blushes. I have no idea why but it only makes him more appealing. "Yeah...I'd rather not, though."_

" _You're school captain. Isn't it your civic duty, or something?" I quirk an eyebrow, and cue that blush again._

 _Okay, this is getting ridiculous._

" _I don't recall seeing it in the contract," he murmurs, glancing black down at the notepad between us and his unsolved algebraic equation._

" _Don't want to get your hair wet?" I venture like a complete bitch. I really didn't mean it like that, but this guy is making me far too cynical than I'm comfortable with._

" _Um..." he utters out a sound that I think is meant to be a subconscious laugh, "well, I swim a lot, so it doesn't usually bother me."_

" _You know chlorine can make your hair turn green," I reply like a complete moron, and as expected, his brows draw together in confusion._

" _I...I'm sorry...?"_

" _Never mind," I mutter, staring down at the jumble of letters and numbers written on the lined-paper that I still have zero clue how to solve. When you end up feeling like an idiot in front of someone like Edward Cullen, stud king and criminally good-looking jock extraordinaire, it's truly the end._

 _Though, he's good at Maths. Really good._

 _It's just a male thing, is how I decide to right it off. Pretty arrogantly._

 _He clears his throat and I look up just in time to witness that sharp jawline of his clench. "So, Bella...?"_

" _Hm...?" I reply, trying not to cower beneath the force of his gaze._

" _You wanna see a movie or something Saturday?" he asks, only he speaks in the same context as if he's telling me my cat has just been run over. So, naturally I only stare at him for a moment in complete and utter confusion._

" _Oh..." Is all that comes to mind as my thoughts race to come up with a believable enough excuse to turn him down. Despite how handsome he very clearly is, this is Edward Cullen. He's just another Charles Swan in the making. Not to mention it's almost a guarantee that he's riddled with STDs._

 _For some strange reason I find myself staring oddly at his hair. It's such an unusual but amazing colour. A dark amber with highlights of cinnamon and honey. Mine's just brown. Dark brown. Not even chocolate or coffee brown. Just brown. Like my father's. And Sam's._

 _I'm stalling so much, Mr Lovely-shade-of-hair starts to look uncomfortable while his eyebrows practically fuse together._

 _He opens his mouth to no doubt back out, when I quickly blurt out of nowhere, "Um, Saturday night is my little brother's swim-meet finals." This is true, not that I have any intentions of going. Chlorine might turn your hair green but the constant smell of it also messes with my asthma and gives me headaches._

 _He appears relieved, which is odd, until I realise why. Along with playing every sport known to the history of mankind, he's also on the swim team. And the current Sydney Grammar 400 metre freestyle record holder._

 _He knows I'm not lying, but he's still not deterred. "Okay, well...what about the week after?"_

 _My mind turns blank, and the more I wrack it for a plausible out the blanker it becomes. I'm forced to concede defeat. "Okay, s-sure," I stumbled over my words wanting to kick myself._

 _What the hell am I thinking? Demigods of high school do not fall in love with the girl who prefers books to human company. This sort of thing does not happen outside of idiotic rom-coms and young adult paperbacks._

 _He obviously has a very sinister motive attached to this. One in which I'm sure he expects to get in my knickers. No doubt his brother put him up to it, or his slut-boy side kick, Jacob Black. So why the hell is my heart rate suddenly going into high gear? And why the hell is he grinning at me like his stock prices just hit record highs?_

"Christ, he really did love me," I blurt out, as my mind snaps back to the present moment. It surprises me to know it surprises me when it shouldn't. Edward's feelings for me have always run deep because Edward has always had that depth to him.

Of course, with such memories, regret and pain once more gnaws at my heart, but I push it back without further thought. I'll always wish I went out with Edward that night and spared my family's lives. Even my father's. But I don't allow it to overshadow me anymore. I keep Handsome at the forefront of my mind as a constant reminder of why I need to live in the present. Handsome and now Tyler. Sweet as honey Tyler who breaks my heart every time I look at him.

If I'd gone out with Edward, I may or may not have lost my parents and brothers, but if I was able to completely change history, I can't in all honesty say my life wouldn't have been met with trials. The moment my father realised Edward was turning his back on his family name and his money he would have immediately withdrawn consent to our relationship.

A school teacher in the family? My father would have preferred a felon, and I'm the sort of person who would have fought him every inch of the way. He more than likely would have alienated me from my mother, Sam and Charlie, forcing me to choose.

"Who, Bells? Edward?" Alice breaks into to my drifting thoughts, snapping her fingers an inch from my face. She, like Jazz, calls me _Bells_ now. Like I'm a bloody Christmas carol.

"Yeah," I say, shaking all those impossibly distracting _what ifs_ from my mind.

"Well, of course he does," she says, breaking into a warm smile.

It's D-Day. T-minus three hours until Edward and I say our "I dos". Alice, Ness, Rose and I are in the apartment getting our hair and makeup done. Yes, Rose, as well. She wrangled her way into the bridal party by default. Edward made Tyler his best man almost immediately making me a bridesmaid short. Emmett asked me if I wouldn't mind considering Rose. In front of her. What was I supposed to say? "I'd rather Edward's mother"?

While Alice and Ness paint my finger and toe nails, Rose busies herself taking selfies; making sure to get the best angles of the bridge and Opera House in the background.

"I can't believe you're leaving all this for _Surry Hills_ , Bella," she expresses her obvious repulsion—as though we were moving to the ghetto—as she wanders into the living room; cropping and filtering selfies as she does.

"That's exactly why we're moving to Surry Hills," I say without hesitation, as Alice snorts beneath her breath.

Naturally it flies straight over Rose's head, while she only continues to scrutinise me as if I have a screw loose. And I'm fairly certain if Ness rolls her eyes one more time she'll be in danger of damaging an optical nerve.

"Head back, darling," the hairstylist, Svetlana, instructs me in a very thick Russian accent.

I point my face toward the ceiling and close my eyes, allowing my thoughts to stray again.

" _Show us your tits, blondie!"_

" _You wish, Cullen!"_

 _I look up in confusion and straight into the clear blue eyes of Rosalie Hale._

" _What's this you're reading?" she asks, snatching the book from my hands before I can open my mouth._

 _We're in between periods. I'm on my way to English, and The Twilight Zone, apparently._

" _How can you read this?" she demands, after three seconds of gazing at it as if it were the Ebola virus._

" _For English..." I state the obvious, wondering whether she's lost. Or drunk._

" _Huh," he replies, and continues walking alongside me while I only stare at her. "Want to grab a latte after school today?" she asks, and I have to glance over my shoulder to be certain she's putting the question to me._

" _Uh...Yeah, no. Thanks, sorry." She has to be high._

" _I'm curious..." She stops and turns to fully face me._

" _About...?"_

" _What is about_ you _that caught the attention of a Cullen."_

"Me _? As in the_ social anomaly _me?" I don't bother to hide my offense, because "you"? Bitch, my father could send yours to federal prison for the rest of his natural life, and I really don't appreciate her turning her nose down at me._

" _I didn't mean it like that," she says offhandedly and without a shred of shame. "You're just not his usual type."_

" _Who the hell are you talking about?" I snap; though, I know exactly who. I'm just becoming frustrated with her and her ability to make me feel pitiful._

" _Edward Cullen," she answers slowly and in monotone for emphasis, and I must be in a bloody alternate universe if I'm being patronised by Rosalie Hale._

 _I shrug an irritable shoulder and continue walking. "He's helping me with Algebra." I don't mention that he also asked me out while I'm presently walking around on proverbial cloud nine._

 _Christ, I can barely stand myself._

" _He didn't ask you out?" Her eyebrows raise high, daring me to contradict her, and of course she'd already know. She makes it her personal business to know every scrap of news in the school, no matter how inconsequential._

" _No!" I burst without really thinking, knowing it's more than likely going to reach Edward's ears in five minutes. "It's not how you think," I decide to backtrack._

" _Hmm..." She smirks. "He's not your type either, is he?" Okay, she's shrewd; I'll give her that._

" _Not really," I reply, imitating her tone._

" _But you're going out with him?"_

" _How is any of this your business?" I demand, too defensively, and she smirks again, completely slyly this time._

" _Meet me at Starbucks at 3:30." She completely disregards me._

" _I'm sorry. I have plans."_

" _Do you? What are you doing?"_

" _I'm not sure yet, but I'm certain I can come up with something by 3:30. Bye, darling." I hurry my step, but in less than ten seconds she's striding alongside me again._

" _See, I knew there was more to you than just the girl with her nose constantly stuck in a book. I think I get why Edward likes you."_

" _Okay, what do you want?" I stop again, shoving my book in my backpack before folding my arms across my chest impatiently._

" _I'm just being sociable. Are you normally this paranoid?"_

" _When '_ oh my god Rosalie Hale _' starts talking to me out of nowhere, yes."_

 _She almost laughs. "You really don't give a shit, do you?"_

" _Should I?"_

" _Pity I didn't realise this side of you earlier."_

" _Isn't it, though?"_

" _You don't like me, do you?" She's clearly amused by the fact that I don't._

" _What gave it away?"_

" _You don't even know me." She puts up as her defence._

" _I don't need to."_

" _You're angry about something," she concludes. "Your Daddy? Hmm?" Her brows raise again, and yeah, she gets it._

 _I sigh and drop my forehead to my palm for a moment. "Do you like Edward? Is that it? If you do, please take him. Oh, please."_

 _She scoffs back her laughter and puts an arm around my shoulder. People actually stare at the abnormality of it. "I'll meet you after sixth period. No hiding from me, either. I know where the library is."_

" _Okay, you can leave that thing in there, too." Rosalie ambushes me by my locker, before yanking my backpack from me and shoving it inside with my books._

" _My purse is in it," I state, annoyed. I tried to make a quick getaway after the final bell rang; unsuccessfully, obviously._

" _Well, get it out," she says as if I'm a damn five year old._

 _I huff, and quickly zipping open my bag I grab my purse from within._

" _What is this?—Velcro?" She snatches it from me to inspect it. "This is a_ wallet _, not a purse. What is wrong with you?"_

" _Aside from not being Edward's_ normal type _?" I retort as the smirk pulls on her lips again._

" _Put it in your pocket," she orders me. "Seriously, you are the only girl on the planet who carries a Nike backpack and Velcro wallet." Her eyes roll, her smirk momentarily fading into a grimace._

 _I comply, shoving it in my school dress and zipping it aggressively as Rosalie grabs my wrist and pulls me after her._

" _I am capable of crossing the road on my own—Christ!" I burst after she insisted on holding hands across two sets of pedestrian crossings._

 _She releases me only after we enter the Starbucks on Elizabeth Street as if she fears I might make a run for it. Which I was considering, let's be honest. Inside it's packed with scores of kids from school, and Rosalie cuts the queue by pushing several of the younger ones out of the way._

" _What do you want?" she asks over her shoulder._

" _Chai latte," I answer begrudgingly, reaching into my pocket to produce my purse when she immediately grabs my hand._

" _Do_ not _bring that thing out in front of me," she warns me between clenched teeth, and I roll my eyes at the absurdity of it. I can't imagine being so fastidiously insecure that the idea of a non-brand-name purse in your presence could cause so much anxiety._

" _Well, how would you like me to pay? Flash my tits?"_

" _I'm paying." She's patronising me again, and my patience is beginning to wear thin._

" _How old are you?" she asks, after we take a corner seat, paper cups in hand._

" _Sixteen," I answer, taking a sip of my drink._

 _She smirks again and almost scoffs. "You've got a pretty smart mouth on you considering you're a year younger than me and I'm 'oh my god Rosalie Hale'," she imitates me, but by the tone of her voice she's clearly in amusement._

" _I spent six years at SCEGGS and six months at Pymble Ladies College. I have always been scrawny and sickly, and so, as you can imagine, it was open season on me from the first day of kindergarten," I explain a little too defensively. "I've been beat up so many times I no longer give a shit." Though by high school, the torture tends to be more of the psychological kind. Hence why I withdrew from the social hierarchy of it and took refuge in the one place I felt comfortable in—the library._

" _I think you got it all wrong..." she alludes, bringing the paper cup to her lips._

" _What?" I say blankly, and that grin of hers is really grating on my last nerve._

" _You weren't getting picked on because you were scrawny and sickly. It was because you were clearly prettier than they were. You were a threat—you still are considering who's asked you out."_

" _Huh...?" I'm speechless, which pisses me off._

" _Take Jessica Stanley, for instance," she continues. "She's been chasing after Edward for five years. He looks at her like she's an insect, like he does with most girls, and yet he chased after you."_

" _Are you saying he never...with her?" I raise a cynical brow, because Queen of the Slut Pack herself? Come on, now._

 _She shrugs a shoulder. "More than likely, but it's hard to say."_

" _What do you mean?" I'm more interested in this topic than I'm willing to admit, and I suddenly realise I'm subconsciously leaning toward her._

" _Her account and Lauren's are the complete opposite."_

" _...How?"_

" _Lauren said he was clumsy and it was pretty uneventful. Jessica claimed he made her come seven times." She rolls her eyes and snorts loudly into her coffee._

" _Is Lauren really pregnant?" I lower my voice to a whisper. Why, I have no idea considering everyone at school is already aware of it._

" _So the rumours say." She sounds indifferent._

" _...So, what's he going to do about it?"_

" _Who? Edward?" She arches a brow, and I nod. "That's if it's even his...but nothing. It'll be taken care of."_

" _Like the dirty little secret it is," I say bitterly._

 _She half nods and sips her coffee._

" _What's he really like?" I ask unashamedly, and Christ, I've really entered the realms of teenage girl._

" _Hm...he's a hard one."_

" _Meaning?"_

" _At first I thought he was really arrogant and snobbish, but now I'm not so sure. Whatever he is, he hides it well."_

" _What does that mean? Has he slept with all those girls?"_

" _Undoubtedly," she says simply._

" _So, what's he hiding?"_

" _He must not like to go back for seconds, because as I said, he looks at them like they're vermin."_

" _Yet Lauren said he was clumsy," I remind her._

" _He didn't like her. He must have felt like he was dipping his dick in a toilet."_

" _He didn't like her? How do you know?" I ask, and I'm more impressed by it than I'm also willing to admit._

" _He told Emmett. Emmett told everyone. Lauren found out..." She's clearly satisfied by the fact that she did._

" _You know an awful lot about him. Sure you're not interested in him?" I cock a mocking brow._

 _She snorts. "I like to know about everyone, but rest assured, I have no interest in him. I don't go for the long and lean type."_

" _What do you go for?"_

" _Brawny."_

It's amazing the things you recall when you're attempting to zone out so you won't be sick. I'm nervous as hell, and it's not over the prospect of marrying Edward. I've been counting down the weeks since he proposed. I just never mastered the art of being the centre of attention.

I'm still staring at the ceiling while the clichéd Russian hair Gestapo forces my hair into an up-do. She's so rough I'm beginning to worry I won't have any hair left by the end of it, but she came highly recommended.

As my head's being jerked around, my eyes meet Rose's. She smirks, giving me an uncanny sense of déjà vu.

"It was because you liked Emmett, wasn't it?" I say, recalling the conversation I had with Edward more than a year ago as a small smile twitches on my lips. "When you asked me for coffee." That day is hard for me. It was the day before my family's death so it's not something I will often, purposely, think of. Today, though the memories are flowing like a river.

"Of course it was, _darling_." She's mocking me this time and I'm not sure how I feel about it. "Twelve years of investment but it paid off." She holds her left hand up, displaying her matching Ayers Rock. Hers is larger than mine and it's a wonder the damn thing doesn't give her carpal tunnel.

"Congratulations. I don't think I ever told you that," I say with a decent amount of humility. She's vainer than a peacock and a complete snob, but beneath it all there is a surprising amount of substance to her.

"You didn't, but you never liked me, so it's fine." That smirk again, and I'm beginning to think her skin's thicker than a crocodile's. Nothing appears to offend her—aside from brand-less purses—but then she isn't shy about going on the offensive, either.

We have that in common. Though while I'm fairly blunt about it, she's slyer than a fox. It's probably how she swindled that rock from my soon-to-be brother in law.

"I was wrong about Edward," she adds after we share an odd moment of silent affection.

"Weren't we all," I say ironically, and I wonder how it would have played out if she knew what Edward was really like and relayed it to me that day in Starbucks. Would it have made a difference?

In truth, I probably wouldn't have believed her; despite all the signs that were right in front of my eyes. For all my perception, he's the one person I completely overlooked, but then, I never took the time to look beyond my own prejudices to see him. To really see him the way he saw me. He was never arrogant or snobbish like Rose believed, or a playboy like I did. He was just painfully awkward to the point of being phobic while carrying a mountain of pain on his shoulders.

Christ, he hasn't change at all. He's always been the same wound tight, deeply serious guy with a rather questionable attachment to me. And who could always see straight through me. _Always._ Though, he's nowhere near the pushover he once was, and I'm not complaining one iota about that.

 **. . .**

Edward and I kept tradition and spent last night apart. While the girls and I are in the almost-bare apartment, he, Tyler, Jake and Emmett are at the new house. He picked up the keys yesterday and got Alec to send in the movers again so we could spend our first night as a married couple there. Tyler's room is already set up. We let him pick out everything from the paint colour, to curtains, furniture and linen. It's been waiting in storage for the last few months, and he's been so psyched about it he was practically bouncing off the walls.

We bought new furniture for the lounge, dining and family rooms. I got caught up in the excitement of it; a lot more than I thought I would, and Edward was, for the first time since I've known him, completely relaxed about spending his grandfather's money. For our room, though, I kept most of my bedroom furniture. I only really bought a new mattress and linen. Edward loved my house in Crows Nest. He moved from his seventy square waterfront property to my small, "cosy" little fifteen square cottage to be with me. I wanted to take apart of it with us to our new home.

"There you go, darling. Take a look," Svetlana says in conclusion, holding a handheld mirror in front of me.

I take it and inspect my hair from every angle. It's a half-braided, loose bun with several locks hanging around my face, and decorated with baby's breath. It looks like the wind could blow it out in three seconds, but is in fact, pretty rock solid.

With two hours to go, Rose does our makeup; all four of us, but no one in the city could do it better, and she insisted. She knows her trade. I'm so well made up I look airbrushed by one of her many Snapchat filters.

After, Alice pours the champagne, because it's becoming obvious I'm beginning to unravel and I need a chiller. Ness brings out the crackers and cheese, and the three of them attempt to distract me.

Ness tells me the story of what Edward was like after I was admitted to hospital with pneumonia. He was apparently so uptight she hugged him and he jumped ten feet in the air. I really wish she hadn't because it impacts me immediately and makes me want to cry, and if I ruin my face I fully expect Rose to murder me. Though, it serves as another reminder of why I have to keep my focus on him and averted from my past. Edward's demons will never be fully gone no more than mine will, and he needs me to keep him grounded as much as I will always need it from him in return.

And we need to keep each other healthy for Tyler, because while Edward and I both need him, he needs us more.

During the final hour, I get dressed into the white monstrosity that will have to be practically sewn onto me. The girls help me into it, while Alice ties up the back. It has a corset bodice and short, off-the-shoulder sleeves. It's all lace and tulle and everything girlie. I chose it off the rack and had it made. It's no Vera Wang or Oscar De La Renta, though Edward would have had no objections, I'm sure. It's classic but beautiful. Like my engagement ring. Like the man I'm marrying.

Jasper arrives next, looking deceivingly blue blood in his black tux, and then my flower girl with her mother. She's Marcus' second youngest daughter, only four and ridiculously adorable.

"You right, Bells?" Alice asks me, her expression falling with concern. "You look a little pale..."

"I'm fine," I reply as Ness hands me my inhaler. My hands are shaking, but at this point I stop processing what's happening or the time as it counts down. My stomach is better-behaved when I just go along with the motions as opposed to over-thinking.

The last to arrive is the photographer.

Several photos are taken on the balcony. That is until I come down with an acute case of vertigo, and my flower girl tries to climb over the railing; giving her mother heart failure. The rest are taken safely inside with views beyond the glass wall as the back drop.

I barely remember any of it. I barely remember getting to the church. I do recall a swarm of spectators milling around when we emerged from the foyer to head into the bridal cars. No doubt they expected to see Sydney's elite royalty, and probably recognised Rosalie. If not, she more than likely reminded them; I wouldn't have put it past her.

Jazz and I ride together.

"Not getting cold feet are ya, Bells?" he asks when I break into a full-bodied shudder the moment the car pulls up in front of St Philips church. It's only two blocks from the apartment, and where we're having the reception. Ironically, I would have liked the drive to have been longer, and it didn't even occur to me that I was sitting in the back seat.

"I'm fine," I insist, staring up at the convict-built structure through the car window in a feeble attempt to distract myself. It's the oldest Anglian church in the country and where my brothers and I were christened. It wasn't where my parents were married. There's no way I wish to jinx me and Edward with that disaster.

My brother helps me out of the car with my three bridesmaid's clumsy assistance. I'm a mass of nerves, and continue to stare up at the five-story high square clock tower, as well as the amassing rainclouds.

"Despite popular opinion, Bella. Rain on your wedding day is actually good luck," Ness reassures me, obviously reading my troubled thoughts. "It's cleansing."

"It really is, you know," Rosalie decides to validate, and I only nod and flash her a tight smile.

Just after we left the apartment to head to the elevators, Rose asked me to be one of her bridesmaids. For want of an appropriate response, I laughed. Which she took as confirmation, but I can't think of anything I'd rather do less.

"He is here, isn't he?" I ask no one in particular, for Christ knows what reason, as we head toward the entrance.

" _Edward_?" Rose asks as if the notion is ridiculous.

"No, my _other_ fiancé," I reply, rolling my eyes at her. " _Of course_ Edward."

"You honestly think he'd leave you at the altar?" Her eyebrows raise cynically, and she has a point; I'm just a basket case. "Emmett called just before we left to say they'd arrived," she fills me in. "Don't you remember?"

Remember? I'm lucky to remember my own name right now.

We assemble in the foyer. Alice, I think it's Alice, fluffs out my dress, while Jasper stands beside me and offers me his arm. I grip it tightly.

"Thanks, Jazz. For doing this," I murmur, leaning slightly into him. He's a complete caveman but it's almost impossible not to love him. Ironically, I'm also grateful that it's him who's giving me away and not my father.

"You're my sister," he reminds me before quickly kissing my temple. "No need to thank me."

"I love you, you idiot. You know that?" I say, and he laughs softly.

"Thanks for introducing me to Alice."

I open my mouth to reply when the double mahogany doors are suddenly pulled open and music starts playing from the pipe organ somewhere inside.

"Christ..." I utter breathlessly as I watch three people deep as my flower girl heads down the aisle; dumping her basket of rose petals at the entrance before she proceeds to skip the rest of the way.

Rose follows her, and then Ness. And then Alice.

I hold my breath just as the bridal march begins to play. For one horrifying moment I'm positive I'm going to throw up. I don't, thank Christ. Instead, I allow my brother to lead me down the parquetry-floored aisle between the wooden pews.

The interior is a golden honey colour. It's all sandstone and timber with gothic, pointed-arched pillars that run parallel to the aisle. The aisle is long; at least eighty feet, and at the end is Edward. He's smiling so broadly. It's the same way he smiled when I accepted his movie offer all those years ago in the library at Sydney Grammar. I'm thinking the same thing now as I did back then, too. How handsome he is. So handsome, I question what he could possibly see in me.

It's not until we're halfway down that I realise he's on the verge of tears. He's trying to hold them off, but he's failing miserably, and it rebounds immediately through me. A familiar emotion begins to burn its way up my throat until I'm forced to break his gaze. My eyes fall to Tyler, who's standing beside him smiling up at me in that sunny way of his. He's dressed in the same identical midnight blue suit as Edward with the same ruby red bowtie; only with a vest instead of the jacket.

I smile back at him, feeling myself become even more compromised. Edward's child, whom I couldn't possibly love more if I'd given birth to him myself.

People naturally assume he's my son, and I don't correct them. Tyler prefers it that way. They will often gauge me in response though; no doubt attempting to guess my age.

"Yes, I was sixteen when he was born—do you have a problem with that?!" I have reacted on more than several occasions now. It's the truth, of course. I was sixteen and Edward was eighteen; the rest is no one's business.

It's a game the three of us play to give Tyler a soft place to fall against a world of harsh realities.

"Remember when you knocked me up when I was fifteen, handsome? Look how far we've come," I often joke with Edward as Tyler giggles.

"Bella..." Tyler usually complains, not even minimally serious, while Edward only smiles to himself.

"You don't know how much I wish it was you," Edward has said more than once when we're alone. Against my flesh usually, with his heated and heavy body over mine.

It's one of those _what ifs_ in a sea of uncertainty that got all three of us to this very point in time, and something I now wouldn't change for the world.

When I reach Edward we're both in tears. He takes my hand from Jasper, only to pull me into his arms. I wipe his tears, he wipes mine, and we half laugh at how hopelessly giddy and emotional we are.

"You're adorable," he whispers to me, no doubt heading me off, because handsome has known me all along. Something he kept well hidden from me, but then I have always been pretty blind. "And beautiful— _really_ bloody beautiful."

"You're really bloody handsome," I imitate him, grabbing his chin as I attempt to pull myself together, and before the pastor clears his throat.

The ceremony is a blur, and I coast through it on adrenalin alone. I drop Edward's ring; that much I do recall, but Tyler quickly scoops it back up and hands it to me.

"What would I do without you, sweetie pie?" I tell him, cupping my hand to his cheek.

In response he blushes, looking entirely too much like his father before I slide the ring down Edward's finger as I repeat the vows the pastor leads us through.

By the end, I'm no longer Isabella Swan, or Isabella Dwyer, but Bella Cullen; Edward's wife and Tyler's mother. All three of us now share the same name.

After accepting repeated congratulations, and being showered in confetti, photos are taken in the church grounds before we head to the Royal Botanical Gardens for more.

By this point it starts to rain, and for the first fifteen minutes it's a downpour. We're forced to wait it out inside the cars; something I don't mind doing. I sit leaning against Edward sipping champagne as we listen to the sound of the rain pelt against the windows.

"I'm sorry, baby," Edward turns his head and murmurs against my hair.

I smile to myself and for a moment it's all I'm capable of. "You're apologising for the rain?" I eventually put to him, arching a brow.

He opens his mouth, but falters before breaking into a conceding smile. "Yeah..."

Mr Apology, indeed. He'll apologise for Mother Nature itself, but I don't mind anymore. It's something he said to me just before I left hospital after the last disastrous visit.

"If anyone deserves an apology, Bella, it's you." He broke every one of my rules in that one sentence, but that was the day I stopped keeping them.

"You're adorable, handsome, but it's okay," I assure him softly, angling my head to plant my lips to his jaw, and Christ, he smells good. "I've always loved the rain."

I have. There is nothing more soothing than the sound of rain as you read. Even when you're out in the middle of a storm watching as your school plays in the Rugby Grand Final against Scots College. Attendance was mandatory, so naturally, I'd taken a book to read beneath my umbrella; only to close it with curious abandonment at the sight of a drenched and muddied Edward on the playing field. Even with his headgear askew and a blue mouthguard protruding from behind his lips I was awestruck. I would have never admitted to it, but I was.

Despite all those preconceived prejudices I had about him, and against my best defences, I'd allowed Edward to enter my world of fiction; somewhere he'd remained even after I lost my memories. I used to dream about him, constantly; only to wake up in the morning in complete confusion as I attempted to ascertain why he felt so familiar. So important.

Perhaps subconsciously I always knew there was something kindred about him. An anomaly like me in our world full of as much pretences as it was wealth and privilege. Despite all the rumours—only one being true—Edward was thrown into the same turmoil I was, and was desperately looking for someone to anchor himself to. Someone to understand him.

That someone was me, and I realise now I never stood a chance against him.

I'm sure Ness has to be right. Rain on your wedding day is lucky, but more than that, it almost feels symbolic. As if all the pain and misery of the past is being washed away, clearing the way for our future.

A future that was almost stolen from me, just as it was from Edward and Tyler, but a future now given back.

 **The End.**

* * *

 **A/N: I'm not okay about this, yet, but I hope it made you smile. I'm undecided about writing an epilogue. The last one I started ended up being a part two, but if it happens, it happens. You never know.  
I have 8 chapters of a new story already written. It's called Hoodwinked. It has zero angst and is all light and humorous. I'll start posting soon.  
P.S., I have a new banner with Tyler in it. Go suss out my profile and have a look! **


	46. Epilogue Part 1

**A/N: Kim (my beta) talked me around. There's two parts; this is from Bella's pov and the next will be from Edward's. I'll update the second in a couple of days when Kim gets it back to me. I won't make you wait a week ;)  
Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Epilogue Part 1.**

 **Bella.**

I'm a morning person; I always have been. I'm usually the first one up and getting the day started, and dragging two six foot plus boys out of bed who love their sleep, but last night was rough.

Sam's still getting over his cold, and every time he coughed or sneezed during the night it felt louder than a bullhorn. I was instantly awake.

I brought it home, like I've been bringing every bloody virus into the house since I started my residency at RPA. I've been rotating through different departments, but for the last six weeks I've been in the ER. I hate being in the ER. I hate sickness and most of all car-accident victims; which is ironic considering my choice of career, but I've seen enough of it in my own life to be sworn off for life. I have six months left before I start vocational training at the Royal Australian College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists. I was pre accepted and have been counting down the days until I'm officially done with interning. Five months to go, which means five months of more direct exposure to germs.

I hate it when the boys are sick, and while Tyler doesn't often come down with anything much anymore, Sammy's sweet little twenty-month old body appears to be a free for all for every virus in existence. We're in week two of his cold, and while he's starting to improve, he's been sleeping as badly as I have. Last night was no exception.

Handsome slept through it like he always does. He sleeps like the dead. I envy that about him. I've always been a light sleeper. There are some things that will never change, and that's one of them. If I have a nightmare though, Edward's immediately awake. He still worries about me. He worries about me more than the boys and on several occasions I've threatened to bring back my rules.

At 2 am Sam crawled in bed with me and Edward, and that was pretty much the end of my night. While Edward can sleep perfectly soundly with an almost-two year old's feet in his back, I can't. Then to top it off I was up at 3am cleaning up after a drunk, pukey eighteen year old. Tyler goes out most Friday nights with Aiden, and while he often staggers through the door at all hours of the morning drunk, last night was the worst I've ever seen him. He could barely walk and I had to take care of him before he woke Sam up, and before Edward found out.

Thank Christ it's the weekend.

Tyler's still a great kid and pretty responsible. At least he was before the novelty of alcohol became legal, but over the last couple of weeks he's turned sullen and mopey; which isn't like him. He's been giving the both of us the silent treatment, and when he's not at school—he's in his first year doing a Bachelor of Electrical Engineering—he's out with Aiden or his vile girlfriend. She's something I really hope is a novelty, too. When I look at her all I see is Leah Clearwater, but Tyler's been blind to her from the start.

It's just past eight when I finally pull myself from bed and stumble downstairs. I find Edward in the kitchen, a foot propped up on a dining chair as he laces his sneakers. He still likes to go jogging in the mornings, and up until two weekends ago, Tyler was going with him.

He turns to me as I enter, a bright smile warming his face. "Hey, baby," he says as I reach up on my toes to plant my lips to his. "I was just about to come and get you. You're not getting sick too, are you?" He hands me my inhaler like he always does. He carries one in every pocket he wears. Mr Worrywart that he is.

"I'm fine," I assure him as my eyes pull to Sammy, who's sitting in his high chair munching away happily on his breakfast. Pancakes and bananas in maple syrup; it's all he'll eat in the morning. By the looks of it, Edward did a decent job of making the pancakes, because I know we've run out of pre-made ones.

He looks up and his big brown eyes meet mine just as he breaks in to a huge, drooly grin. He has my eyes, and my hair colour; the rest is Edward, and he melts my heart. It's my lot in life to be surrounded by handsome boys, and I'm not about to complain.

"Hey, cutie pie!" I greet him, planting both my palms to his cheeks to kiss his face repeatedly.

"Mummy, na-na," he says offering me a smudged slice of his banana in his fist.

"Thanks, baby," I say, taking it and popping it in my mouth. It's amazing the things you'll eat when you have a toddler. Sammy and I often share our food. Edward and Tyler, though? Not so much.

I glance up and catch Edward's gaze; he's smiling to himself, before with his laces tied, he pulls himself to his full height. It's ridiculous how handsome he still is, and by all observations, at thirty-six he's nowhere close to peaking. "What time did he come home last night?" he asks, his tone dropping as his eyes subconsciously pull to the ceiling toward Tyler's room.

"Three," I answer simply, omitting anything else.

"Don't let him sleep all day," he says with a sigh, sounding wearied, "and see if you can get him to talk to you, okay?" He's worried about him, and all his efforts to get Tyler to open up to him have failed.

"Okay," I reply, turning back to Sam to wipe his runny nose with the tissue I have stuffed in the pocket of my robe.

"I'll be back in an hour," he adds, closing in behind me to kiss the top of my head before once more placing the inhaler in my hands. "Bella, you're wheezing."

"I'm fine, handsome," I insist, pulling the lid off the blue dispenser and shooting it down my lungs regardless. I'm always wheezy in the mornings; it's just my reality, but I don't think it will ever not concern Edward.

He breaks into a reluctant smile, but doesn't move. He's stalling on something; that much is obvious. "I gave him some medicine." His eyes shift to Sam, his smile momentarily broadening.

"Okay. Edward...what...?"

"Nothing," he murmurs, shaking his head before turning to leave.

I watch him disappear into the rear yard and then through the gate onto the street before I expel a heavy breath.

It's Tyler. It can only be Tyler.

Since the moment Tyler came into our lives he and Edward have been close. Really close, and whatever Tyler's going through at the moment has Edward troubled.

I have to rectify it.

"Okay, Mr Pouty Pants," I say, after entering Tyler's darkened room and sitting down next to him on his bed, "time to get that drunk rear-end of yours up."

"Bella..." he utters in a cracked and broken voice before he rolls himself to his back and slumps a forearm over his face.

"Come on," I whack his legs beneath his covers before placing the glass of Berocca I made for him in his hands. "Drink this."

"I can't..." he moans, clumsily shoving it to his bedside table.

"Sammy, come and play with Tyler!" I call out in retaliation, just as Sam's softly thudding footsteps on the timber floor draws near.

"No!" Tyler protests, almost managing to sit himself up in bed before falling back against the mattress and covering his face with both his hands. "Bella, I really can't..."

"Tyler!" Sam greets him cheerfully after appearing in the doorway, just as Tyler visibly recoils, and in the next instant he's running toward him.

I scoop him up in my arms to prevent him from inflicting anymore torture by jumping on Tyler's bed. "This is how it's going to go," I say after handing Sam my phone to quickly distract him. "Either we talk or I'm putting you in charge of Sam for the next three hours while I get some more sleep. Your call—or would you rather I tell your father about the state you came home in last night? Hm?"

"Can we please do this later?" he attempts to raise his voice, only for it to immediately crack. "I feel like shit."

I immediately slap his shoulder reproachfully. " _Language_!"

Over the last several months Sam has turned into a parrot, and Edward and I are constantly reminding Tyler to be mindful of what he says in front of his little brother.

"Do you want me to puke?" he replies as if it's some kind of threat.

"If you do, you'll be cleaning it up," I warn him. "I don't mind cleaning up after a two year old, but puking teenagers is where I draw the line."

He groans again, and runs his palms down his face as if to rouse himself. "Bella, please..." he appeals to me but I'm unmoved.

"What's going on? Or are you just going through a belated petulant teenage phase?"

"Nothing's going on," he mutters.

"Really?" I say unconvinced. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Bella!" he attempts to argue with me, but immediately fails. "Can you just give me a few more hours?"

"Nope." Picking up the glass of Berocca from his table, I once more thrust it into his hands. "Drink."

"I'll spew."

"I'll get a bucket."

"No..."

"Is it Aiden?" I ask since they're practically joined at the hip. They met on the first day of high school and have been _BFF_ s ever since. They often bicker like an old married couple.

"No," his voice softens, and I know I'm close.

"Tania?" I make every effort to prevent my voice from tensing.

He groans softly to himself, but suddenly sounds resigned. "We...broke up..."

"Oh."

"Don't sound too happy," he replies bitterly, before he releases a conceding breath, "but you were right about her..."

"I'm sorry, handsome." I'm not really. I'm bloody elated. "So, that's why you've been so crabby?"

"No!" he retorts, and there's an accusing edge to his tone. "I've been so _crabby_ because you and Dad have been lying to me!"

"... _What_?" I ask in confusion. "How have we been...?" I begin when he immediately cuts me off.

"You really don't know?"

Sam suddenly drops my phone, pulling both our attention to him. It falls to the floor with a loud crack, and dropping my head to my palm I groan loudly.

"Uh-oh," Sam pipes up.

" _Sammy_..." I complain.

"Just get Dad to buy you a new one," Tyler adds sarcastically, like the typical sullen teenager he's becoming.

"Tyler..." I turn back to him.

"Sorry, mummy," Sam says, jutting out his bottom lip and holding up my phone; its screen is now completely shattered.

"You're adorable, cutie pie. Mummy's not mad," I reassure him. I'm really am a lost cause when it comes to these boys of mine.

"Look, I know, Bella, alright?" Tyler breaks in impatiently. "So you can just cut the act."

My gaze immediately zeroes back to him while my eyes narrow. "Um, listen here, Mister, you might be eighteen years old and think you know everything, but keep talking to me like that and you're going to be in for a world of pain!"

His bleary green eyes break from mine and he expels a jaded breath. "Sorry..." he mumbles.

"Okay," I let it go because it's obvious when Tyler's remorseful, "start from the beginning—but drink this first." I motion to the glass he's still clutching before grabbing his other hand and pulling him upright.

"Oh god..." he groans pitifully, slumping up against his headboard. "Bella...you might need to get that bucket." He's turning a horrible pasty colour, and on impulse I spring up from his bed.

"Christ, Tyler, can you make it to the bathroom?"

He shakes his head, even as he drags himself to the side of the bed and pulls shakily to his feet.

He does make it, just barely, and after listening to the poor kid repeatedly heave up his stomach, I help him back into his room.

"I'm never drinking again," he utters miserably after flopping back down on his bed.

"I would think so considering you smell like a brewery," I say wryly, placing the glass back in his hands for the third time. "Try and sip it."

He does, grimacing almost instantly before crawling back under his covers. "I'm sorry," he whimpers.

"Why are you sorry?" I ask softly, wiping his hair off his sweaty brow. "You need to shave." It's crazy how much he looks like his father, and I will often find myself staring at him almost in surprise by the déjà vu he evokes in me.

He only closes his eyes and hums drowsily in reply.

"Okay, I'm going to run you a shower and then I'm going to make myself a coffee. You have thirty minutes to get your arse downstairs."

" _Language_ ," he mocks me, his lips almost twitching into a smile even as his eyes remain closed.

"Smart arse," I lean closer and whisper to him just as his breath shoots from his nose.

"Yes, Mum..." he teases me, and at times like this he's not like Edward at all. Sometimes he's just Tyler.

It takes him a lot longer than thirty minutes to resurface, and just when I'm contemplating going up stairs again to drag him back down he appears in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Hey," he says sheepishly. His hair's wet and almost neatly combed and he smells a hell of a lot better, but he still looks sickly and pale. "I drank this." He holds up the empty glass in emphasis.

"Good. Come and sit down," I offer gently, pulling out a chair from the kitchen table for him. Sam's in the lounge room watching the Disney channel, so with a bit of luck, we'll get twenty minutes of uninterrupted talk in.

Tyler slumps down at the table and drops his head into both hands. "Can you get me some aspirin?" he asks weakly.

"You want a coffee?"

"Juice."

"You need something fattening."

He groans again. "God, not yet."

Pulling open the refrigerator door, I pour him a glass of orange juice, before popping out two paracetamols from their foil packaging. Then placing both in front of him, I take the chair opposite and wait patiently for him to talk himself around.

He does, only after he drinks every drop of juice. "A-Aiden overheard her telling one of her friends," he begins stammering. "How...she wanted to get pregnant."

" _What_?" I utter in disbelief. "She isn't, is she?" Christ, there's no way I can be a grandmother at thirty-four!

He shakes his head, even as his brow bunches in contradiction. "No. I mean...Jesus I hope not."

"Why the hell would she want to get pregnant?"

"Because...of Dad's money," he admits, his bloodshot eyes holding mine steadily.

I open my mouth to reply, but I have no words. Instead I sigh deeply; which only appears to confirm Tyler's suspicions.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" he asks, and by the tone of his voice he's hurt that we didn't.

"Tyler..."

"You know I always used to think that ring of yours was fake," he says, his head tilting to my four carat engagement ring before he laughs ironically, "but it isn't—there was always signs."

"Tyler..." I begin again, but he only shakes his head.

"I remember that apartment we lived in when I first came to stay with you. The apartment on the harbour, and how Dad _never_ looks at price tags when he buys you something."

"Tyler," I attempt a third time, and this time he stops, but when his eyes meet mine they're welling in tears.

"You and Dad went to that rich school and you sent me to _state_ school!" he points out as if he thinks we've wronged him, and in response I laugh humourlessly.

"We _sent_ you to state school _because_ we went to that rich school. Neither one of us wanted you in that world!"

" _Why_?"

"Because it isn't normal, Tyler!" I state, my voice rising. "Half those kids are spoiled, selfish brats, and the other half have been psychologically screwed over by their parents. Have a guess what half me and your dad were in?"

"What half was my mother in?" he puts to me in a broken voice.

"Tyler..." I whisper, shaking my head; it's all I can really do.

He's never really got over finding out he was rejected by his mother, and this is despite him telling everyone that _I'm_ his mother; his biological mother. Edward knew intimately what he was feeling and how to get him through it, but it's still something that will haunt him forever. It breaks my bloody heart.

A month after Edward and I were married, I opened the front door to find Lauren Mallory herself standing on our porch. It's not as if I wasn't expecting it. With a name like Cullen, and with Edward the living breathing embodiment of his grandfather, it was always going to draw attention to us at some point.

Our wedding made the social pages; some arsehole had leaked a photo. I opened the newspaper on a Sunday morning to a picture of me, Edward and Tyler. " _Edward Cullen, Grandson of Billionaire Insurance mogul, Carlisle Cullen, marries his high school sweetheart, Isabella Swan, together with their eleven year old son, Tyler. Isabella is the daughter of Sydney Barrister, Charles Swan who was killed along with his wife and two sons in 2008_ ," the caption read just as the air was sucked from my lungs in immediate panic. I knew what the consequences of it were, and that one consequence in particular then found her way to our house not seven days later.

It was a Tuesday; Edward was at work and Tyler was at school, thank Christ, because I was unsure how either of them would have reacted. _Badly_ was almost definitely a certainty.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded after a good ten seconds of only staring at her in complete and utter shock.

"Hi, _Isabella_...? How are you?" she asked, putting forth a sickening display of pleasantries.

"You know my name—now answer my question!" I replied coldly, making her jump.

"I was just wondering..." she broke off to clear her throat nervously. She was dressed to the nines, in a Burberry outfit and carrying a Chanel handbag; her makeup perfectly applied, and I was suddenly recognising my mother in her. And Edward's mother. "How long...has h-he been with you?"

"None of your damn business!" I snapped, moving to slam the door on her when she hastily reached out to stop me.

"I haven't come to see him or anything. I don't want to disrupt your life. I was just wondering...who knows that I'm his..." she couldn't speak it, and by the degree of discomfort that suddenly afflicted her, it was obvious she didn't want to.

" _Who knows_?" I repeated in growing disbelief. For a split second I actually thought she'd come to enquire after Tyler's welfare, and I suddenly felt stupid. " _Everyone_ knows."

I watched as she turned five shades paler and started fidgeting on the spot. "Who exactly?" she pressed me.

"Is that all you care about?" I accused her. "Whether your dirty little secret will come out?"

"I'm...getting married soon—" she began as if it was some kind of justification, but I immediately interjected.

"And let me guess, he has no idea what a selfish, repulsive human being you really are?"

"It's not like that, at all," she attempted to convince me, rather pathetically, when I shook my head, dismissing her.

"Tyler knows, and so does Emmett, Jacob and Rosalie, but rest assured they won't tell anyone. Edward and I are _actually_ looking out for Tyler's best interests. As far as anyone else knows he's _our_ son. _Ours_. So, now you can turn around and leave, because if I ever see you anywhere near us again, I _will_ leak a certain story to the newspapers before you can blink!" I threatened her, and I was so angry I was literally quaking and gripping the door in an attempt to keep myself under control.

"Thank you," she mumbled as if I was doing her a bloody favour, and I was suddenly fuming.

" _Thank you_?" I echo in disgust, my voice turning high and screechy at her damn audacity. "Christ, you're pathetic, but I actually pity you. You have _no_ idea how amazing he is, but then you didn't even ask!" And with that said I slammed the door on her so hard the stained glass window inside it cracked.

"Everyone knew, Bella—about Dad's money. Everyone but me!" Tyler exclaims, pulling my thoughts back to him. "And then I found out my so-called girlfriend only wanted to be with me because of it."

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," I whisper, my emotions already compromised by the memory that's still lingering in my thoughts.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demands, slamming his fist to the table top, but it's not because he's angry. He's hurt.

"You have no idea how privileged you are, Tyler—a hell of a lot more than those kids at Sydney Grammar will ever be," I begin, appealing to him to understand. He only jerks his shoulder stubbornly as if to repudiate me, but I'm undeterred. "Your father is letting you decide how you want to live your life without fixating on money. He will always look after you, but on the same condition that his grandfather gave to him; that you live your life in a way that is _worth_ something. The day you start obsessing about money is the day you will become everything your father and I hate!"

"But you never told me!"

"Because it wouldn't have changed _anything_ ," I stress the importance of it. "Do you know what happened to Jake and Ness?"

"No..."

"Jake's life was never his own. It was his father's. He had to live his life the way his father dictated and that included who he married, or he'd be completely cut off."

"Wait...Jake and Ness were rich, too?" He's suddenly confused, and it's the main reason why we kept it all from him.

"Only Jake was, and he fell in love with Ness and was forced to choose her over his parents and his family's wealth."

He's silent for a moment as the cogs in his hungover brain obviously start turning over. "Did Dad have to choose you...?"

I break into a small smile and shake my head. "No. My father was rich in his own right. I was already in that world with him. Your great-grandfather gave him the choice of how he wanted to live, so long as it was honest and didn't revolve around money. That's what your father wants for you. You and Sammy."

"So, you and Dad are billionaires who live like ordinary people." He laughs dryly. "Jesus..."

"We're not billionaires."

"You're close." He arches a contradictory brow.

I immediately hesitate, appraising him for a moment. "How do you know that?"

"I...looked on Dad's computer," he confesses, breaking my gaze to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Christ, your father is going to kill you!" I burst.

"I had to know!"

"You couldn't just ask?"

"No...I-I don't know..." He's frustrated. "I felt like an idiot, because when Aiden told me I laughed and I told him there was no way my old man was that rich. Aiden knew, every kid in high school knew. Everyone, but me. Do you know how that made me feel, Bella?!"

"Okay, and now you know, but guess what? _Nothing_ changes. Don't think for one second your father is going to go out and buy you a Ferrari." He scoffs as if he thought it were ridiculous, but I'm not convinced. "That's not how we live!"

"Of course I know that!" he bursts, his voice straining. He's hurt; incredibly so. "I wouldn't ask for anything like that. I'm-I'm really grateful for everything you guys do for me..." he pauses and glances down at his hands while his entire expression contorts in pain. "I'm just... Bella...?"

"Yeah?" My voice softens, and I suddenly feel like a right bitch for thinking so little of him. He's never been a spoiled kid, or an entitled one, for that matter.

"How will I know?"

"Know what, sweetie?"

"If a girl likes me for _me_?"

* * *

 **A/N: Just a reminder that the legal drinking age down under is 18. Kim told me I should remind all the non Aussies of the American kind because she wasn't happy about Tyler getting drunk lol.  
Anywho, I hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you in a couple of days. **


	47. Epilogue Part 2

**A/N: Part two and with this one the sun will be setting on these guys.  
Thanks to Kimmie45 and StarryEyedWriter8, and everyone who read, and reviewed. Even all you lurky kind, and trolly McTrolls.  
*smooch***

* * *

 **Vertigo**

 **Epilogue Part 2.**

 **Edward.**

"Get over there right now and find out whether she's pregnant. Now, Tyler—take Bella with you!" I burst the moment I throw open his bedroom door.

He's lying on his bed looking green and seedy before immediately pulling his legs to the side and sitting up. "Dad, I..."

" _Now_!" I repeat myself, my voice rising. "It should be your first priority— _Bella_!" I call out to her, because god knows she'll hold the bitch down and force her to take a pregnancy test if need be.

She appears behind me a few moments later.

"What's going on?" she asks, sounding tired.

"Go with him," I instruct her, "and don't leave until she's taken a test in front of you."

"Go...?" she repeats blankly.

"To her house—whatever the hell her name is."

"Tania," Tyler says quietly.

"Right now?" She quirks an uncertain brow. "Honey..."

"Bella..." I sigh and rub my brow heavily. "I don't need to remind you why this is important."

"I know, but he's still pretty pukey," is her reasoning.

"Do you want me to call James?" I suggest. She opens her mouth to object just as Tyler snorts. "And you," I snap, turning back at him, "next time you've got a problem, come to me. I don't want to see you sulking around the house and feeling sorry for yourself again."

"Alright..." he mumbles, dragging himself to his feet and running both hands back through his hair.

"Are you okay to drive?" I ask him. "I can get—"

" _I'm_ fine to drive—Christ!" Bella protests, cutting me off. She put her foot down over it years ago, and she's given me bloody high blood pressure ever since. She hasn't had an attack in years though. At least, not one that was the result of panic.

"Where does she live?" I put the question to Tyler.

"Glebe."

"Okay, get going," I order him.

"Come on, handsome. Caesar has spoken," Bella directs him as I huff.

"Bella—Jesus!"

"Oh, I'm only kidding." She waves her hand to dismiss me, flashing me a shrewd grin. "Tyler, let's go."

"Doing my bloody head in," I mutter, trudging back downstairs.

Bella follows with Tyler several paces behind her; he's moping, but it's obvious it's more from the physical state he's still in. I've warned him dozens of times about drinking too much, but he's a glutton for punishment. I was once too, though, and I'm surprised I'm still alive considering the benders Jake and I used to go on.

"Sam needs to go down for a nap at one," Bella reminds me, plucking her car keys off the hook by the entrance.

"Okay." I nod, and at the sound of the front door opening Sam comes bolting into the room with his hands held up.

"Sammy come?" he asks Bella, attaching himself to her leg.

"Daddy's going to take you to the park, Sammy," she promises him as I prise him off her.

He chucks a fit, and throwing him over my shoulder, I carry him in the opposite direction and out the back door. You can't reason with him, not at this age, and I know nothing will shut him up until I get him on the bloody slide.

The park is at the end of the street and the moment we're outside and heading in the direction, Sam's tears immediately stop. He loves coming here, and it's the best way to tire him out.

I let him explore the playground equipment and jump in the sandpit while I sit on the bench and watch him, but I'm too distracted. I'm restless, and I can't stop my knees from bouncing. I've never regretted having Tyler in my life, but it's still not something I want for him. The circumstances are completely different this time, and he's too young to be forced into fatherhood; especially with a girl who's only after money.

Forty minutes later I cave and text Bella: **Everything okay?**

It's Tyler who replies: **She's heavying her old man. Mate she's scary sometimes.**

I laugh out loud; scary she is.

Not long after, Sam starts rubbing his eyes and tugging on his ears, a sure sign he's tired, and hoisting him into my arms we head home. He doesn't protest.

Bella and Tyler arrive back just after I put him to sleep.

"Did she take it?" I ask her the moment they come through the door, and just as Bella turns the screen of her phone to me. It's cracked, but not enough to conceal the photo of the white pregnancy tester with the words "not pregnant" clearly written in the window. I realise the air from my lungs in relief before taking it from her. "What happened?"

"Sammy," is all she says. She sounds exhausted and she looks it too.

"I just put him down. Go and join him," I urge her, pulling the inhaler from my pocket and placing it in her hands. She's still a terrible sleeper, and with Sam sick over the last week it's only been worse for her.

She flashes me a warm smile and stretches up to quickly kiss my jaw. "I think I will."

I watch as Bella pulls herself back upstairs and when she disappears from sight I grab Tyler's shoulder and turn him to me. "Jesus, Tyler, never _ever_ sleep with a girl you're not sure about."

"I thought I was sure about her..." he mumbles, his eyes dropping to the floor.

"Bella didn't like her," I point out and he scoffs.

"I know."

"That's usually a good sign to be careful."

"Yeah." He half shrugs a shoulder.

I gauge him for a moment. He looks scared to death. Probably like I once did after the rumours about his mother started circulating. Rumours that turned out to be true. "You eaten?"

"Nah. I still feel pretty sick."

"Want KFC?"

He stares at me, suddenly horrified. "Dad..."

Rolling my eyes, I grab him again and shove him towards the door. "Come on..."

"You're a smart kid, mate. You don't want to ruin your life over a girl like that," I caution him after watching him munch apprehensively on a chip for a moment. I made sure to sit in a booth closest to the toilets just in case he has to make a run for it.

He looks up and sets his eyes on mine. "Like you ruined yours?"

"I didn't, but believe me, you don't want that kind of guilt if a kid ever rocks up on your doorstep." I smirk and he returns it.

"Yeah." He scoffs beneath his breath.

"You know what it's like to have a baby in the house. Imagine if he was your responsibility. _Alone_ ," I reiterate because after having Sam I found myself thankful I wasn't doing it as an eighteen year old.

He pales and nods his head in agreement. "I know. Shit..."

"So be careful."

"It's okay, I get my brains from Bella," he jokes and I laugh, taking a bite of my burger.

I give him a few minutes to start digging into his food before bringing up the subject he's clearly expecting. "So, you know..."

"I know," he echoes, his eyes on his half eaten burger.

"Why didn't you just ask?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he counters.

"You're a kid."

"I'm not anymore."

"Really?" I raise a brow.

"Dad, come on," he complains, shoving another chip in his mouth.

"Here's the thing. I'll pay for your university fees, and buy you a house when you want to move out, but the rest is up to you. That's what Pop told me. Okay...?"

"Okay." He nods.

"When you ease up on the binge drinking I'll buy you a car," I add, because I know that's what he's thinking.

"You promised to buy me one when I turned eighteen," he reminds me.

"Bella talked me out of it."

"Geez..." he mutters, sighing loudly.

"You know what she's been through."

"Yeah, I know," he eases off.

"You can't really blame her."

He nods again. "I know."

"You think I don't know she's been hiding the evidence from me every weekend when you come home pissed?" I put to him.

He only stares at me for a few moments, his mouth falling open in surprise. "How come you didn't get the shits with me?"

I shrug. "You're eighteen. What can I do? You'll learn your lesson eventually."

"Aiden's a pisshead, so I don't know..." he mumbles, snorting to himself.

"So was Jake, but I got sick and tired of puking in back alleys every Saturday night."

He grins as if he can empathise. "Did your Pop get you a car?"

"Yeah, but he wouldn't let me drive it on the weekends. He sent his driver to pick us up."

"You can send James to get me," he says slyly.

"Forget it," I state. "You can take the bus."

"You get him to pick up Bella," he points out.

"You know what happens if something triggers Bella's panic." I raise my eyebrows in emphasis, and he nods reluctantly.

"Yeah, I remember." His forehead knots. "She hasn't had an attack like that since, though."

"Because I make sure she's not on the road too often."

"What are you going to do when she's a doc and on call?"

"I'll worry about that when it happens. She still has six years," I mumble more or less to myself. Two years of an undergraduate course, four years in medical school, one year as an intern and another as a resident, and she still has another six of vocational training. I'm surprised she's not worn out, but then she very rarely is. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah." He looks pretty perked up.

"You're staying in tonight, too."

" _Wha_ t?" he immediately protests.

"It's for making Bella clean up your mess this morning."

"I'm gonna tell her you know about it," he says breaking into a smirk.

"I'll tell her you call her 'the old lady' behind her back."

His expressions smooths out in alarm and he eyes me for a moment as if weighing it up. "Alright," he caves.

"And tell Aiden the next time I catch him perving on her I'm going to kick his arse."

He laughs. "You know he's had the hots for Bella since he was twelve?"

"So did I, but I'll still break his neck."

 **. . .**

"I have a brilliant idea," Bella puts to me just before bed a week later; which usually means she wants me to do something I'm not going to like.

"What...?" I groan

She whacks me. "Shush, Mr Cynical. Alyssa Denali."

"Who?"

"Marcus' second daughter. Ally. She's Tyler's age. They might already know each other; she's pre Law at Sydney Uni."

"Baby, no kid wants to be set up by their mother," I attempt to rationalise with her.

"All we have to do is introduce them..." She deliberately clears her throat and breaks into a broad grin.

I only sigh and shake my head, but it's not a bad idea if we can get Tyler on board. Which I doubt. He has his own ideas about girls, and so far they haven't been his smartest choices.

Marcus is self-made; which means he isn't old money. He came from a middle class background and everything he has he's worked for. His kids would reflect that, and he's no doubt instilled them with the same work ethic. At the very least, they wouldn't see Tyler as a meal ticket.

"We'll see what happens," I relent. The three of us are going to his oldest daughter's wedding on the weekend, so it's possible the two of them might take a liking to each other. "Just don't make it obvious," I warn her.

"Of course I won't," she assures me, but the sly grin is already dominating her expression.

I expel an exasperated breath, but wrapping my arms around her waist, I draw her to me. "It's been three days..." I remind her, my voice deliberately dropping, and that's usually all the encouragement she needs.

Like it is tonight.

In the next moment she's tearing my shirt over my head and dragging me toward the bed. I'm eleven inches taller than her, so the first thing she usually does is pull me to the bed on our knees; at which point she then decides what position she wants to be in. I usually let her led because Christ knows she's still a hell of a lot better than me. Her energy blows my mind sometimes. She can come home from a twelve hour shift at the hospital, and still strap her heels on and drag me into the shower.

I'm on top this time; on top and partially to my side so I have access to her body, as well. I like being on top, but then so does she. Often times we fight over it; she will actually attempt to manhandle me into being beneath her. It's laughable considering how small she is, but I play along. I don't tell her how much it turns me on, but then I'd be naive to think she's not already aware of it. At the same time she likes me to get pretty rough with her as well, because while she has endless energy she knows she can't overpower me.

I go slowly, even as I fight my own body, but it's not something I want over too soon. Even if I end up feeling like I'm on the verge on an aneurysm.

My body begins to quake and lock up, and I'm just about the pull myself on my knees when the weight of a twenty-eight pound body jumping on me suddenly forces me into Bella.

A reflexive sounds bursts from me and I immediately stop.

"What...?" Bella asks confused, her voice soft and failing.

"Sam is on my back," I explain, attempting to catch my breath just as he wraps his arms around my neck and pulls himself further up to look over my shoulder.

"Hi, Mummy!"

"Erm...hi, cutie pie," she replies, fighting the obvious urge to laugh.

"I play, too?" he asks innocently, just as Bella loses that fight.

"Baby—don't!" I beg her, but she does anyway.

The sensation of her muscles jolting around me causes streaks of white light to flash behind my eyes before I drop my face to her neck and groan lowly.

Bella only continues to laugh as Sam pulls himself from me and proceeds to jump on the bed.

"Aren't you glad we had him?" she says, her laughter increasing while I all but collapse on top of her.

"It's never a dull moment anymore, that's for sure," I mumble against her skin as the air shoots from my nose in silent laughter.

It took her a lot longer than I thought it would to want a baby, but then in the beginning she saw one only as another person she could lose. Not long after we were married and moved into the house her anxiety levels started to peak. She started having nightmares again, only this time they were about me and Tyler dying. It got so bad I forced her off to Dr Jenks again.

She initially fought me on it, but I was adamant because while Bella can function on a couple of hours sleep a night, I can't. Plus, I was all over the place worrying about her. I couldn't focus and the lack of sleep wasn't helping.

After roughly six months in therapy her anxiety began to ease, but there was never any mention of babies from her. I wasn't too concerned, and we had a lot to make up for with Tyler. That was until everyone around us started having them.

Jake and Ness were first; they named him after me. Edward Anthony Black, and if Tyler looks like me, he's Jake's clone.

The money I gave them after Pop's Neutral Bay house sold helped Jake start his business and buy them a house in Chatswood, on the upper North Shore. While his parents have technically cut him off and have nothing to do with him and his family, Jake's happier than I've ever seen him. Still, I wish he'd stop feeling obligated to pay me back all the bloody time.

The next were Alice and Jasper; twins. Two girls; not identical. One is a dark-haired version of her father, making her look freakishly like Bella, and the other is Alice all over.

The last was Emmett and Rose; they had three in quick succession. It wasn't Rose's idea but Emmett was determined to get a son. He finally came after two girls, but Emmett had to pay heavily for Rose's "push presents". They hire a nanny while Emmett's business is booming, but they fight a lot. All the damn time, and it's usually me and Bella who have to hear about it. Rose wants to live according to their income bracket, which is a lot more than their middle class lifestyle, but Emmett won't budge. He bribes her with designer labels to keep her happy, but I know it pisses him off.

Rose is Rose, though, and he knew what she was like when he married her.

With six babies and toddlers constantly around us it was inevitable Bella would eventually get clucky. She told Ness first before I knew anything about it, and that's when she and Jake invited us to their house for dinner.

"Jake and I have spoken about it," Ness spoke up half way through dessert, "and we'd really like to help you guys have a baby,"

"Oh my god—no!" Bella immediately exclaimed horrified, beating me to it and shaking her head adamantly. "I can't ask you to do that."

"Bella. I _want_ to," Ness assured her, "and Jake is completely on board—aren't you babe?" She turned to him; he only smiled, placed his hand over hers and nodded. "What you done for us..."

That's when I broke in. "Jesus, you don't _owe_ me anything. That's not why I helped you."

"I know it wasn't, mate, but you really have no idea how much you changed our lives," Jake replied; he was serious, and he very rarely is. "We want to do something for you guys in return."

There was no talking sense into either of them, and that's where it all began.

I got Alec to set it all up. With Ness being a surrogate there were a lot of legalities involved, plus he put us in touch with the best fertility specialist in the city.

Bella had to have her egg production stimulated and that meant injecting herself with hormones every morning. She tried to get me to do it, but I have no stomach for that kind of thing. At the same time, Ness had to get her body ready to receive a foreign pregnancy and needed to be injected as well. Jake poked her and took the piss out of me for being such a pussy about it, but they were bloody giddy about doing this for us and I couldn't stand it.

The next step was retrieving Bella's eggs. She was put under for the procedure while I was sent to jerk off into a cup to have them fertilised. That was all that was required of me; I was basically a fifth wheel in it all.

The first month failed, but the second attempt stuck. Two embryos were implanted into Ness and one took.

We were having a baby.

Bella went with Ness to every one of her OBGYN appointments, while Jake and I came for the scans. At nineteen weeks we found out we were having a boy. Bella cried. I mean, she really cried, while I began to feel like I was getting a second chance; to experience everything with this baby that I missed out on with Tyler. It all happened pretty fast that I never really stopped to process it, but after we found out his gender, I started counting down the weeks with Bella. I was thirty four, Bella was thirty two, and we were more than ready.

Tyler was almost sixteen and at first Bella was worried he might start to feel as if he was being replaced, but he was pretty excited about it. Up until that point he'd been an only child, and he confessed to us that he always wanted a brother.

There was never any dispute over what we were calling him. Sam. Sam Charlie Cullen, after both of Bella's brothers.

We spent way too much money preparing for him. He had more clothes than he could possibly wear, and while Bella has always been pretty blasé about designer labels, it went completely out the window for him. She had to have the best pram, the best cot, the best car seat; the best _everything_.

Tyler and I painted his room, and Bella hired an artist to paint a jungle-themed mural on his wall. The kid was spoiled before he was even born.

Ness was three days overdue when we got the phone call she was in labour; at two in the morning. Bella dragged me out of the house before I was barely awake, but after a complication-free pregnancy, that's when everything turned to shit. We almost lost them both.

For the first couple of hours everything was pretty straightforward. When we arrived Ness was three centimetres dilated and in early labour. By five centimetres she got an epidural. I told the obstetrician I was paying for I didn't want her to feel a thing, and Jake was in complete agreement.

Bella stayed with her, but Jake and I were in and out of the room. I didn't want to _see_ anything, and Jake was too on edge. He was worried about her, and I was more comfortable keeping him distracted.

We were six hours into it, and Jake and I were coming back up to the labour ward after grabbing coffee when we walked into complete chaos.

Alarms were going off everywhere and nurses and doctors were all running in the one direction; to Ness's room.

That's when Bella emerged from behind the door; she was crying, she was wheezing, and she was so pale she looked like she was on the verge of fainting.

"Baby—what happened!?" I blurted, reaching out to her and feeling as if my heart had suddenly stalled.

She all but collapsed into my arms and clung to me as her entire body shook.

"Is Ness okay!?" Jake practically shouted as I grabbed Bella's inhaler, but she only pushed it away.

"The placenta detached. Ness is bleeding and his...his oxygen has been cut off," she explained in barely a whisper and that's when Jake ran into the room.

"It'll be okay, baby," I promised her, pulling her further against me, but I barely believed it myself, and I was suddenly scared to death.

After everything she's lost, I couldn't believe the universe would be cruel enough to take our baby from her too. I _couldn't_.

Not ten seconds later Ness was being wheeled out along with a dozen staff. The sense of urgency was palpable; the bed was covered in blood, Ness was barely conscious, and every doctor and nurse in the vicinity were all shouting out medical terms I didn't understand. But Bella did, and in response she pressed herself further to my chest. I held her to me with one arm while in the other I attempted to grab hold of Jake. A nurse was holding him back, explaining that he couldn't follow, and he looked like he was coming apart.

"Jesus Christ—they won't tell me anything!" he burst, pushing both hands back through his hair.

"Come sit down, mate," I urged him quietly, grabbing his shirt and tugging him toward the row of chairs by the nurse's station.

I could barely look at him. The guilt that it was my child who was putting Ness' life in danger was tearing me apart. He didn't speak; none of us did. Jake sat stony while he struggled to keep his emotions under control, while Bella only clutched my hand as hers trembled. It must have only been ten minutes when we heard, but it felt like an hour.

"It was a close call, but everything went well. They're both fine," the obstetrician informed us with a relaxed smile, and for one moment I couldn't comprehend it. All I could think about was the contrast between him and the doctor who once told me Bella might die.

Bella burst into tears; so did Jake. So did I, for that matter.

While one nurse ushered Jake to recovery to wait for Ness, another accompanied me and Bella to the neo-natal unit. After his traumatic birth, they wanted to keep an eye on the baby for observation.

They brought him up a few minutes after, and the nurse let Bella and I hold him before he was placed in the humidicrib.

He was tiny, half an ounce under seven pounds, with a headful of dark hair. He was the perfect blend of both me and Bella. He had Bella's eyes, the shape of them, and while they were blue I instinctively knew they'd eventually turn brown. I could see Tyler in him, too. All I have from Tyler at this age are photos Alec had given me, but it was still obvious they had the same shaped face, the same nose, and chin.

"He's beautiful," Bella whispered cradling him in her arms, and attempting to inhale back her tears while I hastily dried them—and my own. Then leaning down she planted her lips gently to his face.

Her emotions were completely frayed, but at the same time, her expression was familiar. It took me a few moments, when I realised it was the same unfathomable look she had in her eyes the day Tyler came to us.

 **. . .**

"Dad, help me..." Tyler complains, trudging downstairs with a navy tie twisted in his hand.

"Come here," I say with a smirk, taking it from him.

"Tell me why I have to go to this thing again?" He sighs, while I loop the tie beneath the collar of his shirt and began to thread it.

"Because you were invited."

"I don't know anyone."

"Well introduce yourself and you will—there." I tug his tie straight and nudge him.

He scoffs like the smart arse he's pretty good at being. "I didn't go to a posh school like you and Mum did, remember? How the hell would I know how to do one of these things up?" He attempts to loosen it.

"I wore a clip-on," I admit, breaking into a small smile. It's not often he'll refer to Bella as "Mum", but when he does it's usually subconscious and I don't bring it to his attention. "Where's your jacket?"

"In the kitchen."

"You boys ready?" Bella says, walking into the lounge room as both Tyler and I turn toward her.

She's wearing red, her hair is up, but the heels, her body, those breasts... Christ...

She stops in her tracks to stare at us both, while I do the same with her. "I am going to be the envy of every woman in the room tonight. How handsome do you two look?" Placing her palms to my chest he stretches up to kiss me.

"It's not fair to the bride to look this beautiful," I murmur against her earlobe.

"You're such a charmer, handsome," she says wryly, grabbing my chin, before glancing at Tyler. "Where's your Jacket, sweetie?"

Tyler groans and shuffles out of the room grumbling to himself while Bella's smirk broadens.

"I spoke to Marcus," she lowers her voice in confidence, "and he is totally on board with introducing Ally and Tyler tonight."

" _Just_ introduce them," I say, shaking my head and grabbing her hand. "Tyler, hurry up!" I call out to him.

"Coming," he sulks from two rooms away.

"Come on, Mr Pouty Pants!" Bella adds, practically laughing.

"Sammy okay?" I put to her.

"Yeah, he and Ness are watching _Finding Nemo_ in his room. He'll barely miss us," she assures me, squeezing my hand.

Ness is a master at keeping him distracted when we're going out.

We made Jake and Ness Sam's Godparents, but Ness and Sam will always share a bond, and she's always the first to put her hand up to babysit him. A week after he was born I got Alec to deposit five million dollars into their account, telling Jake that his wife almost dying to give me and Bella a baby meant we were now indebted to them.

We are, and I don't know how the hell we ever lived without him.

When Sam was eighteen months old they added baby number two to their family; a girl this time. Thankfully they didn't name her after Bella. She's only two months old and currently upstairs with Ness and Sam. Jake already has plans of hitching the two of them up when they're older, but right now Sam thinks she's an alien.

"Okay, well let's get going before he comes back downstairs," I say, pulling her towards the front door as Tyler yanks his arms begrudgingly into his suit jacket.

Bella discreetly points out Ally to me as she walks down the aisle. She's one of the bridesmaids, blond and pretty enough, but then I always had a thing for brunettes. Tyler on the other hand, snuck his phone out at the beginning of the ceremony, and barely looks up from it.

As soon as I get the chance I rip it from his hands and shove it in the pocket of my jacket. He only _tsks_ and pouts until the service is over, but he's completely oblivious to the several girls in the church who _have_ noticed him. None of them are Ally, though.

The reception is being held in a room on the pier overlooking Walsh Bay, on the west side under the Harbour Bridge. And barely half an hour into it, three girls have asked Tyler to dance. He's over it already.

"Good thing he's graduated high school or he might have had his own Slut Pack chasing after him," Bella leans over and murmurs against my ear.

Closing my eyes, I groan only half beneath my breath. "Please don't remind me..." Those girls made my life hell.

She laughs lightly, just as Tyler returns from the third round and throws himself into the chair beside her with a loud huff.

"Please save me, Bella," he begs her while I'm forced to clear my throat in an effort to suppress the all-out grin.

"Okay, handsome, let's go," she says, grabbing his hand and leading him back to the dance floor.

I watch them dance together, Tyler with his hand wrapped around Bella's waist and towering over her like I do, when Bella suddenly pauses and stretches up to speak something into his ear.

Tyler nods, when my devious wife suddenly taps the shoulder of the girl dancing solo beside them—who just happens to be Marcus' daughter Ally—transferring Tyler to her. Tyler appears to oblige her, but he has his back to me, so I can't see his expression.

Bella immediately makes her way back over to me, a huge smile lighting up on her face.

"You do realise I'm a genius, don't you," she says, completely impressed with herself as she takes the chair beside me at the table we were placed at.

"I never doubted it," I say wryly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "How did you manage it?"

"I told him I needed my inhaler," she says, turning to glance back over to him. "Christ, look at him! He's _blushing_."

I look up and follow her gaze to my son who's suddenly fumbling over his feet while he smiles down at Ally like she's royalty. And by the looks of her she's as equally taken by him.

"Awww..." Bella mumbles softly, visibly moved and placing both palms over her heart.

I laugh shortly through my nose, before leaning down to her and pressing my lips briefly to her temple. " _You do realise_ ," I imitate her, "that's how I first smiled at you."

* * *

 **A/N: "So long and goodnight. We love you." - Freddie Mercury.**


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